Freak Nation Pt1: Something More Than Human
by Gatergirl79
Summary: Stiles Stilinski has a secret, a huge secret. A secret that will change the way everyone sees him. No, he hasn't been bitten by a werewolf. Stiles Stilinski is the product of a government experiment to create the perfect soldier, a human weapon. hen Derek saves his life, Stiles finds himself slowly embracing who he really is. - But at what cost?
1. Exposure

**A/N: I've been wanting to write a Dark Angel style au fic for a while now, but kept putting it off, that was until my friend Agnes said she really wanted to read it. We had some conversations, and this was the outcome. Set after the season two finally, at which point it veers away from the canon, up to that point everything was the same. Also, this is set in a kind of alternate Dark Angel timeline, where the experiments began a lot earlier and the pulse never happened. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Stiles pressed his back against the side of the bathtub and closed his eyes. The room had begun to spin the second he's stepped into the shower. He'd tried to shake it off at first, telling himself he was just tired after days of stress. In hindsight that really should have warned him, as it was, he'd stepped out of the shower and bam, his knees had gone beneath him, and he'd crumpled into the bathroom tiles like a damn towel.

He'd managed to prop himself up a few minutes ago, only for the tremors to start. His whole-body trembling and jerking. There dampness that was coating his body wasn't the water from the shower but rather small beads of sweat.

It was his own fault, he knew that. He'd been so distracted with Werewolves, Kanimas and Hunters, that he'd forgotten to take his pills. Thinking back now, it had been three days, and he scolded himself. How the hell could he let himself forget? His dad was going to rip him a new one.

For as long as he could remember there had been two rules, take your pills and never let others know what you are. There second rule was the only thing that had stopped him from beating both Matt and Gerard Argent to a bloodies pulp.

Stiles inhaled deeply through his nose and eyed the door, weighing up whether he could get to his room before he passed out completely. It didn't seem likely however, so he'd have to call for help, which would inevitably lead to a lecture and that look in his father's gaze when he was reminded of what Stiles was.

Closing his eyes, Stiles let his head rest back against the tub, building up the energy to drag his ass across the bathroom to the pile of clothes in the corner. It took him half a minute, not even the sweat covering his body was enough to stop his skin from catching on the tiles, occasionally causing a squeaking noise that under any other circumstance would have had Stiles in fits of laughter.

He riffled though the fabric until he found his cell phone, yanking it free with such force that he heard the seam rip. His vision was beginning to blur, and his hands were trembling so badly that it was a miracle he was able to maintain a hold on the cell phone. With a shake of his head and a deep breath Stiles forced his fingers to move over the keys.

 **Code 5 emergency home**

Then he hit send. The second that was done Stiles allowed himself to collapse back onto the floor, his head landing on the carpet outside the bathroom door.

_(*-*)_/

Getting a message from Stiles was unusual enough, getting one with the words emergency was practically unheard of, especially over the past couple of months. Which was exactly why Derek was currently racing across town to the Stilinski house. If Stiles was messaging _him_ , then it had to be serious.

Once upon a time, back when he'd first met Stiles, he'd have probably dismissed such a message as some kind of prank, or a way to lure him somewhere. However, if there was one thing he'd learnt about the teenager in the past year, it was that Stiles took danger very seriously. Especially if that danger would put lives at risk, even if that life was Derek's. So, sending out an emergency text, that's not something Stiles would do lightly.

He parked the car up the street and continued the rest of the way to the house on foot. When he reached the front yard he paused, closing his eyes and stretching his senses to the limit, listening for any sign that this was a trap. All he heard was a single weak heartbeat and frowned, a sudden rush of fear engulfing him.

Hurrying around the house, he yanked open the backdoor and stepped inside. Even before he'd set foot over the threshold he was bombarded by an overpowering scent he couldn't quite pin down. It was both familiar and strange all at the same time. It was almost suffocating, and he paused, closing his eyes and listening. Had he missed something? Was there someone, or something in the house? But no, he could still only hear a single heartbeat. That didn't stop Derek from extending his claws as he made his way through the house and up the stairs.

Turning the corner, he froze. At the end of the hall he could see Stiles, unconscious, his head poking out of the bathroom. Derek rushed down to him, leaping into the bathroom prepared to fight off…something, only to find the room empty. Checking behind the door, reassured there was no threat, Derek dropped down onto his knees next to Stiles and let his gaze flicker over his naked body. There was no sign of a physical injuries and Derek felt himself relax only minutely before turning to look at the young man's face.

He was covered in sweat, face flushed red and he was shaking. Derek frowned, he looked as if he was having an epileptic fit, but Stiles wasn't epileptic, was he? Leaning in close, Derek inhaled deeply, trying to pin down what was wrong with him. He didn't smell like epilepsy. Erica had epilepsy before he'd given her the bite, he knew what it smelt like and this, whatever this was, wasn't the same. It was… unrecognizable. Indescribable. Weird. Kind of like Stiles himself, Derek thought.

Pressing his hand to Stiles chest, Derek gave it a shake, "Stiles? Stiles?" there was no response other than the slight uptick of the boy's heartbeat against his palm. Derek stared down at him, uncertain what to do. _Phone an ambulance,_ his mind told him, but something held him back. If Stiles wanted medical help wouldn't he have called 911 himself rather than texting Derek for help? And where was Scott, why hadn't Stiles text his best friend. The whole situation was confusing, and if there was one thing Derek hated, it was being confused.

"Stiles?" Derek tried again, grabbing him firmly by both shoulders and giving him a violent shake. "Wake up? What happened?" he demanded loudly. Stiles flesh was clammy, and his sweat was creating a barrier between his skin and Derek's palm, but there was still no response, and Derek sigh. "If you don't wake up in the next five seconds, Stiles, I'm calling an ambulance, and I'm pretty sure you don't want that." he growled through gritted teeth. "STILES!"

Stiles eyes snapped open, pupils blown black and the whites streaked with red. He held Derek's gaze for a few silent seconds. Derek holding his breath and waiting. Then Stiles drew in a deep shaky breath and whispered, "Pills. Drawer."

Derek turned his head, looking at the bathroom cabinet and pushing himself up to crawl over to it, but before he could move Stiles fingers bit into his forearm, stopping him.

"Nightstand." he clarified shakily, his body convulsing violently. It was as if unconscious his mind had forgotten it was meant to be freaking out on him, but now he was awake again, it was doubling its efforts.

Derek gave Stiles a brief nod before clambering to his feet and running down the corridor to Stiles bedroom. He ripped the drawer free of the nightstand and its contents scattered across the floor next to Stiles bed. In the center of the mess was a little brown plastic container. Scooping it up, Derek ran back to the bathroom, hurriedly filling a glass and returning to Stiles side. "Here you go." he said, offering the container.

Stiles eyes rolled back into his head and his body began to jerk off the floor, causing Derek to panic. He set the glass beside him and ripped the top of the cylinder, tilting it against his palm. "How many? Stiles! HOW MANY?" he yelled,

"T-two." Stiles panted weakly.

With two pills in hand, Derek slipped an arm beneath Stiles shoulders and helped him sit up. With his free hand, Derek forced the small white pills past Stiles pale lips, one at a time, then reached for the glass, "Drink." he ordered.

When he heard Stiles swallowing, he lowered the glass, setting it aside on the tiles, then slipped his other arm under Stiles legs, lifting him. He carried him back to his room, covered him up and pulled up the desk chair.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles head felt like an army had marched through it, his skull tender from the inside out, but at least the fit had stop. It wouldn't take long for his body to return to normal, for now at least. The worst part was knowing that when he opened his eyes, he was going to be face with his father. With that look. When he opened his eyes and returned to the land of the living, he and his dad were going to spend days in awkward tension.

He didn't blame his dad, as much as it hurt. It was hard being reminded that the world wasn't normal. It was why he hadn't come clean about the existence of werewolves. His dad didn't need any more insanity in his life.

There was also the fact that every time Stiles had a seizure his father was once again forced to face up to the fact that while Stiles may call him dad, and he may call Stiles son, they weren't blood. So, Stiles could be excused for wanting to postpone that painful moment, if only for a few more minutes.

"I know you're awake."

Stiles snapped his eyes open at the sound of a familiar but unexpected voice, shooting up in the bed. "Derek? What the…?"

"You text me?"

Stiles frowned, "No."

Derek nodded.

Stiles shook his head even as his mind slotted the pieces together. "Shit."

"What are you?" Derek demanded, voice low and dangerously calm.

Stiles gave him a lopsided smile, "What?" he kept his heartbeat steady.

Derek narrowed his eyes at him, head tilting slightly as he tried to pick up the deception. "You're not right."

"Gee, thanks." Stiles huffed, flinging back his covers only to yank them back when he found himself naked. Derek didn't so much as flinch at the sudden exposure of his naked form, but then why would he. Stiles wasn't exactly a playgirl centerfold.

"I thought you were having an epileptic fit, but it doesn't smell like epilepsy. It's…weird. You're weird."

Stiles scoffed, "I've been told that for years."

Derek gritted his teeth and growled, unimpressed, "Just tell me what you are? You're not a wolf."

Not caring about his nakedness, Stiles threw off the covers and climbed off the bed, marching over to his dresser and retrieving some underwear. "I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone." he deadpanned.

"So, what was that then?" Derek snapped, his tone making it clear he was getting tired of Stiles' evading the subject.

Stiles turned, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Derek with a hard look. "If you must know, Mr. Nosy-Wolf, I suffer from a neurological condition that on occasion results in fits and I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself." it wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the whole truth.

Derek stared, uncertain.

Stiles sighed, "What you can smell," he added warily, "is the medication. It doesn't just alter my brain chemistry but also my biology. It doesn't make me _anything_ but a medically fucked up human." he couldn't help the bitterness that tainted his voice at the last part, because that was probably the most honest he'd been with anyone since his mom had died. "Now, I'm grateful for your help, but I have stuff to do."

Derek didn't move or even blink for a half a minute, his eyes searching Stiles. Then suddenly, he was giving him a sharp nod and heading for the door. "You might want to fix the lock on the backdoor before your dad gets home." was all he said before vanishing out of the room.

Stiles stared after him, surprised that Derek hadn't demanded more answers. Then he exhaled a relieved breath. "Wait, what did you do to the back door?" he yelled, rushing out of the room, only to hear the slam of the front door.

_(*-*)_/

When school finished for the summer, Stiles found himself at a loss. Scott had decided to take on extra shifts at the clinic, as well as a part time job at the local grocery store. Stiles knew what was behind his best friends heightened work ethic. Things were still off with Allison, and rather than be haunted by the fantasy of what he and his ex-girlfriend could be doing on all the extra hot summer days, Scott would rather bury himself away in cardboard boxes and spayed cats.

Honestly though, Stiles didn't blame him one bit, it just sucked that he had no one to waste away the summer with. Which was how he found himself three weeks into the summer vacation wandering through the woods up to the old Hale place.

Considering the makeup of his DNA, it never failed to surprise him how much of a klutz he was. He could, if he so chose, run rings around the entire cross-country team. He could hit a bull's-eye a quarter of a mile away and could have laid out the entire Argent army without breaking a sweat, if not for the promise to his mother.

And yet for some reason, Stiles always managed to trip over his own feet at the most embarrassing moments. It had started out as a joke, when he was a kid. A disguise. If he was a complete doofus no one would ever suspect what he really was. The only thing was, he'd been doing it for so long now, that he'd kinda turned into a klutz. _We are the masks we wear_.

So, when he strolled out of the Preserve to the sight of Derek Hale, shirtless, ripping up the front porch, sweat rolling down his back. Yes, that was the perfect moment to lose his footing and land hard, face first into the dry grass.

There was a tired grunt above him and Stiles rolled onto his back to find Derek bathed in sunlight and practically glowing like Edward friggin' Cullen.

Stiles fixed on a bright smile, "Hey sour-wolf, working hard I see."

"What are you doing here?" Derek grunted.

"Just thought it would be a nice place to catch some rays." he grinned, setting his folded hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

"This is private property." Derek reminded him.

"It belongs to the state."

"Belonged." Derek clarified with a grunt, "The paper work cleared last week. This is my land; thus, you are trespassing?"

Stiles eyes snapped open and he scrambled to his feet, tripping once more and surprised when Derek grabbed his arm to steady him. "You got the house back? Awesome. Congrats?"

Derek sighed, turning his back on Stiles and marching back to the porch.

Stiles buried his hands into the pockets of his jeans and awkwardly followed, "And your fixing it up." he observed, looking at the still ash covered three story mansion.

"I need a pack house." he stated matter-of-factly.

Stiles huffed, "Yeah, can't see crazy Uncle Peter living out of a railway carriage."

Derek turned his head sharply, "Peter isn't part of my pack."

"Uh?"

"He refuses to accept me as his Alpha."

"Oh." Stiles gapped, "So it's gonna be just you and Isaac living here then?"

Derek pressed his lips together for a long minute, before turning to viciously yank a board from the steps, and Stiles flinched.

"Have you heard from them?" Stiles asked cautiously, dropping his gaze to his sneakers and dragging his toe at the dirt.

Derek froze, his shoulders heaving. "No. - Has your…"

"No. General consensus is they ran away together. All very Romeo and Juliet."

"They'll be back." Derek stated after a long silence, but he didn't sound all that convinced.

"Yeah." Stiles agree, equally unconvinced. "So, want some help?"

Derek turned his head, fixing Stiles with a disbelieving look. His eyes travelling over his body, then he scoffed, shaking his head and going back to work.

"Hey, I'll have you know, I'm very good at DIY, and I'm not as skinny as I look."

"I know." Derek grunted over his shoulder, and Stiles flushed at the reminder that Derek had seen him naked.

"Fine," Stiles snipped back, insulted. Then he turned around and marched back to his jeep.

_(*-*)_/

When Stiles showed up the next day wearing a pair of ripped up stained jeans and a white t-shirt, Derek hadn't been all that surprised. Scott was working all summer, according to Isaac, which obviously meant Stiles was left to entertain himself, and apparently that meant turning up at the house to bug him.

He'd almost told the little shit to get lost. Go find someone else to pester, but he'd taken one look at Stiles hopeful brown eyes and found himself caving. "Fine, but don't complain about splinters." he'd told him firmly and then handed him a claw hammer.

Having Stiles around would also give Derek a chance to question him about this so called neurological disorder. Something didn't smell right, and he didn't just mean Stiles scent. There was something else going on, Derek's instincts told him so.

Derek's suspicions of Stiles only increased with the amount of time he was spending with him. He was a lot stronger than Derek would have originally believed, a lot. Supernaturally so, quite frankly.

It should have taken Derek at least two weeks to rip up all the rotted boards and put down their replacements, but with Stiles help it took him six days, and even more surprisingly Stiles didn't complain once. He just kept his head down and focused on the work, the same way he'd seen him focusing on solving a problem.

Taking a step back from the new porch, Derek dragged his shirt down his face.

"Looks great." Stiles announced, stepping up beside him, and handing him a bottle of water.

"Yeah." Derek agreed, twisting the cap and chugging. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Stiles carried the last remaining planks over to the growing wood pile and dropped them with a loud clatter.

"Thank you." Derek muttered when Stiles made his way back over, "On my own this could have taken weeks."

Stiles grinned, shrugging. "I had nothing better to do."

Derek huffed a dry laugh, "Nice to know you're here solely because you had no one else to hang out with."

Stiles stared at him for a long moment, "I'm not saying I haven't had fun," he stammered, "as fun as hard manual work can be, anyway."

"It's fine, Stiles." Derek sighed, heading over to the steps and examining their hard work, "We can start on the inside of the house Monday, if you're not busy."

"Monday. 9am?"

"Sounds good. Have a good weekend, Stiles."

He heard a tired sigh and then the shuffling of feet as Stiles walked away.

_(*-*)_/

"Isaac said he's seen you up at Derek's house." Scott stated over the pizza box, his eyes burning into the side of Stiles face.

It wasn't that Stiles had been keeping the fact that he was helping Derek a secret, it was just he didn't want to have to listen to Scott go on about not trusting Derek. Which was ironic considering that the one person he did trust above all others, aka Allison, was the one that betrayed them.

Stiles kept his eyes fixed on the screen and grunted a non-committal answer.

"So, what, you and Derek friends now?" Scott asked in a way that made Stiles prickle.

Stiles turned to look at his best friend, "I'm helping him fix up the old house." he clarified, "Dad was on my back about getting out of the house over the summer, and he's pretty much my only option unless I want to sit in the park feeding the birds with old lady Barnet."

Scott huffed, shoulders slumping and dropping back against the side of the bed. "I'm sorry for abandoning you over the summer Stiles." he signed sincerely, "I just…"

"I know." Stiles quickly cut him off, "You don't have to explain, man. I get it."

They settled back into their game, Stiles taking out zombies left and right, and generally being awesome. Score one for superhuman skills. When there were no more challengers to take on, Stiles shut down the Xbox and the pair headed down stairs to the kitchen, grabbing snacks before making themselves comfortable in the living room to watch the late-night horror flick.

They were half way through _Curse of the Werewolf_ when Stiles muttered, "He's not that bad you know. Derek. I know he was a jerk after he became the alpha, but…"

"A jerk? He bit Isaac, Erica and Boyd, and now Erica and Boyd are missing." Scott snapped.

Stiles glared at him, "Erica and Boyd left."

"Because of Derek." Scott argued.

"No, because they couldn't handle Jackson and the Argents trying to kill them." Stiles corrected angrily.

Scott met his gaze then quickly looked away.

"As for biting them in the first place. It wasn't as if he stalked the woods at night attacking innocent passersby," Stiles huffed, waving an arm at the screen as if to demonstrate his point, "He gave them the choice, man. - He's not Peter."

Scott stiffened beside him, head locked in place and eyes fixed to the TV. "So, what, now you're the president of the Derek Hale fan club. I thought he scared you."

Stiles exhaled, letting his head roll back tiredly on the couch cushions, "Come on, man. I'm just say you don't have to be an ass to him because of what Peter did to you."

"Are you serious?" Scott snapped.

Stiles straightened at the aggressive tone to his best friend's voice, locking gazes. "Have you even spoken to Isaac about what happened? About what Derek said to him? Have you?"

Scott narrowed his eyes as they flashed amber. He was getting aggravated which didn't bode well, but frankly, if Scott was in the mood for a throw down, so be it. Stiles was in no mood to play Robin tonight. "I don't need to!" Scott spat, "Derek saw Isaac was in trouble and took advantage."

"Did he? You know that for sure, do you?" Stiles heard himself demand loudly.

"What's with you?" Scott yelled back.

"There's nothing with me, Scott. I just don't want to join your Derek Hale is the antichrist club, okay! - Maybe, I think the guy has been dealt a shitty hand and he's just trying to deal with it as best he can."

Scott stared at him, eyes wide and judging, "Shitty hand?" he muttered, "You mean like being attacked in the woods."

"No!" Stiles snapped furiously, "Like losing his whole fucking family in a house fire started by your ex-girlfriend's aunt. I mean like finding out his uncle killed his sister and left her to rot in the fucking woods. I mean like having to kill said uncle with his own bare hands. So, get off your high horse Scott and fucking look at the world from down here!"

Stiles heart was racing, he could feel his hands beginning to shake with the tension building in his body. He hadn't meant to say any of that, and the look of hurt in Scott's eyes cut deep. But the fact was, Scott needed to hear it.

Without so much as a word of goodbye, Scott span on his heels and marched out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Stiles flinched away from the sound and sighed, dropping down onto the couch. His body was humming, and Stiles gritted his teeth, praying he wasn't about to have another seizure. He knew deep down that wasn't an option, because he'd been taking his pills like clockwork since the incident four months ago.

His leg bounced, and he tapped his fingers against his feet until it became too much. Shooting to his feet, Stiles rushed up to his room, stripping out of his jeans and t-shirt, he hurriedly dressed in his joggers and hoodie, slipping on his running shoes.

It had been a long time since he'd gone for a run to burn off the excess energy, mostly because his dad wasn't able to go with him, and he couldn't exactly ask Scott. His dad used to struggle to keep up with him during their runs so the idea of running with Scott, who up until his change had suffered from asthma, was just flat out ridiculous. - Even now, with his werewolf-ness, Stiles couldn't go running with Scott, because then, well then, he'd have to tell Scott, and he promised.

With his clothes changed, Stiles ran down the stairs and out the back door. He kept a normal human pace as he made his way along the street, and through town, but the second he reached the preserve, he let go. He stopped holding back, stopped reigning in the power in his every muscle, and broke into a powerful sprint. The trees blurring as he past them, his lungs working overtime to keep his body oxygenated.

He made a point of heading away from the Hale property, out towards the lake on the other side of the preserve. Drawing Derek's curiosity would only make everything worse and lead to questions. Questions Stiles knew Derek had been struggling _not_ to ask.

For twenty minutes Stiles ran, fast and free, swerving in and out of the trees. Letting it all go and allowing his mind to empty. The stress he'd left the house with, the worries concerning the fight with Scott, they were all swept away by the rush of wind. Then he heard it, movement before him, running feet. He stopped, crouching low against the dirt and straining to listen, whoever it was they were getting closer. Heavy boots. They were fast too.

Instinct took over.

Instinct and training.

Everything his mom had taught him.

Some of his earliest memories of time with his mom was training in the basement of their house. She'd always told him he needed to know how to defend himself, how to use his body as a weapon, because one day they might come for him and he had to be ready. He wasn't normal. He wasn't like the other kids. He was special. Different.

His mom had taught him a lot before her death, the kind of stuff that in hindsight had him wondering just what she'd done before becoming a middle school teacher. She knew about military tactics, and survivalist training. She'd take him on hikes in the woods and teach him what fruit was safe to eat and how to be guided by the stars.

She taught him how to think. Really think. To look at a puzzle from all sides. How to recognize an enemy in his mists and see past the lies. She taught him how to keep his head when all around him were losing theirs.

She taught him how to stay alive.

_(*-*)_/

When Derek picked up the now familiar scent on the air, he'd abandoned his search for Erica and Boyd and headed straight for it. It was travelling fast, which made Derek nervous and yet also in a weird way immensely satisfied with himself. There was no way Stiles could be moving that quickly through the preserve and be human, no way, and as soon as he caught up with the young man he was going to demand answers.

As it turned out, catching up with Stiles wasn't as easy as Derek had first thought. He was moving a lot faster than Derek expected and he had to push himself to his limit to so much as keep track of him.

After a few minutes Derek stopped in the middle of the clearing, turning in a large circle, confused. Stiles scent was all around him, but there was no sign of the teenager. Closing his eyes, he listened out for his heartbeat, it was slow, and uncomfortably calm considering it was Stiles, and…

Derek lifted his head to the sky just as a figure fell from the trees. Without enough warning, he couldn't react, and legs wrapped tight around his throat. The body twisted, forcing his neck to the side hard enough that he could feel the bones grind dangerously together. There was an angry grunt as they felt to the ground together, the thighs tightening. Derek flicked his fingers, extending his claws and then reached up to jab them into the thighs, ripping through fabric and flesh.

There was a cry of pain and the legs relaxed. Tearing himself free, Derek rolled onto his front, body low and posed to retaliate, fingers digging into the dirt for purchase. Before he could get his baring's however, and focus on the figure, a foot collided with the side of his head. Hard enough to make his teeth crash painfully together, his canines biting into his cheek and drawing blood, and making his head ring. The force of the impact sent Derek falling to the side, face landing in the dirt.

Shoving himself up, he spat out the blood then turned his blazing red gaze on the figure.

"Shit." He heard a familiar voice breathlessly swear, "Derek?"

Derek didn't answer, leaping forward. His body crashed into Stiles, bringing them both down to the dirt once more with a pained grunt. With teeth bared and claws raised, he stared down at the young man, the boy's eyes wide, filled with fear and…regret. "What are you?" he demanded, hissing out the words furiously.

Stiles heart was now, and the thick head scent of fear almost choked Derek. "I'm Stiles?"

Derek growled, forcing his face closer to the boy, the fingers of his left hand, holding his hoodie, tightening while his other hand inched closer to his throat. "You're not human."

Stiles swallowed, chest heaving. "I… Yeah, I am." he nodded desperately.

Derek narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. "No, you're not."

Stiles panted, eyes flickering between Derek's, and then he was grabbing the front of Derek's jacket and using an unnatural amount of upper body strength to fling Derek not only off him, but twenty yards away and into a tree.

"Okay, man, look…" Stiles sighed, turning to face Derek, body lower, poised to react to another attack, "I'm sorry I kicked your ass," he said with more glee than genuine regret, "but I didn't know it was you and I was just defending myself. - What the fuck are you even doing this far out in the preserve anyway?"

Derek watched him cautiously, getting to his feet. "What are you?" he asked again, breathless and almost pleading, his hand pressed his right ribs.

Stiles exhaled a long breath and straightened, relaxing his body and letting his defenses drop, a show of truce. "I told you, I'm human."

Derek shook his head, "You can't be, not fighting like that." he took an unsteady step forward, eyes searching Stiles face, "Are you a hunter?"

Stiles rolled his eyes dramatically, lip curling up, "Seriously? Dude, I threw you into a fucking tree, twenty feet away, and I kicked you so hard in the face your mouth is bleeding. Allison and her dad are amazing in a fight but they ain't _that_ fucking awesome."

Derek stalked towards him and instead of backing up like Stiles would have previously done to maintain the illusion he was a weak human, he held his ground, eyes locked with Derek's. The tension was palpable, and Derek swallowed, his gaze flickering down to Stiles mouth briefly. "J-just tell me what you are, Stiles." he whispered, heart beating hard and fast.

Stiles rolled his lips together, and Derek was sure he was going to deny it again, or worse just walk away. Stiles turned his head, looking at the dark woods, then his shoulders slumped. "Can we go back to the house?" he said finally, turning back to Derek. "I'd rather not have this conversation in the woods, man."

Derek straightened, taking a step out of Stiles personal space and gave a nod. "Okay."

* * *

 **A/N: Feedback would be most appreciated, thank you.**


	2. 411 on the DL

**411 on the DL**

The house was dark when they stepped inside, Stiles cautiously making his way further into the house, careful not to trip over cables or tools. They'd started in the inside of the house two weeks ago, and now it was basically a shell. There were a few pieces of dry board secured to the wall that separated the hall from the den, that Stiles had insisted on putting up the previous evening before Derek had kicked him out for the weekend.

The way Derek had practically frog marched him out if the house made Stiles wonder if perhaps he'd had a date. A thought he'd reluctantly admit he found discomforting.

The smell of damp and rot was gone, aired out now the walls were removed and old floorboards were replaced. Stiles squinted when the room suddenly flooded with light and he rubbed the ball of his hands into the sockets, "Jesus man, warn a guy." He grunted, blinking away the spots in his vision.

When he could finally see clearly again, Stiles looked around, frowning at the sleeping bag in the corner, "Maybe we should have started with the bedrooms." He smirked, fixing Derek with a teasing look, "Can't imagine your date was impressed." He scoffed.

Derek frowns at him, "What date?"

"I assumed you had one last night, and that's why you kicked me out." He gave a small dismissive shrug and tipped over an empty bucket, before lowering himself down onto it.

"I didn't have a date." Derek grunted, hovering by the empty fireplace, arms folded, "I was out looking for Erica and Boyd."

Stiles eyes wider and he sat up, alert, "Have you heard from them?" He demanded.

Shaking his head, Derek sighed, "No. - But I found Boyd's cell out near the lake three days ago."

"What were you doing by the lake? No one goes up there, not since that chemical spill back in 09."

Derek tilted his head, brow raised, "Werewolf." he pointed out, "What were _you_ doing out there?"

Stiles buried his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie and dropped his gaze to the wooden boards, the toe of his sneaker kicking at the edge of the toolbox, "I had a fight with Scott." he confessed, "I just needed to run, you know?" he looked up through his lashes, "Get rid of the anger."

Derek stared at him for a long moment, and Stiles shifted awkwardly on the bucket, counting the seconds till the question was asked. Again.

To Stiles surprise, Derek didn't demand to know what he was, but rather turned away from him. He marched over to the cooler in the corner. Stiles licked at his lips as Derek bent over, retrieving two cans of soda.

On his third day, Stiles had been surprised when Derek carried out the blue cooler, threw off the lid and handed him his favorite soda, and a BLT. Stiles had stood there for a few silent seconds just staring at it before Derek thrust it at him. They'd sat on dirt in a comfortable silence and ate, like it was normal. Two weeks later, they'd headed to the diner for burgers and curly fries.

Stiles to the soda and smiled up at the older man, "Thanks." he muttered, looking down at the can, "I'm human."

Derek grunted disbelievingly but didn't argue, making himself comfortable on the sleeping bag, watching him.

"I am. _Mostly_. Like I mean, I'm more human than you." Stiles exhaled a long tired sigh, getting to his feet to pace nervously around the room, "I'm just…" he dragged a hand through his hair, surprised by just how much it had grown out over the last few months, "My mom," he started again, turning to fix Derek with an uncertain stare, "She wasn't… _normal_ , like she was human, kinda… god this is…" he shook his head,

"Okay, so it's like this, my mom, she's… she was, a genetically enhanced human."

Derek lifted a disbelieving brow, "What?"

"And I'm a second generation genetically enhanced human. An X6, Mom; she was an X5."

There was a frustrated grunt coming from the sleeping bag, "Stiles."

"Okay, okay. Once upon a time…" Derek growled, but Stiles ignored him, "a scientist named Sanderman started a project to create the perfect soldier, it was called Manticore. It took them almost a decade of failed attempts, but eventually they made the X5s. These transgenics were basically a genetic pick and mix of the best DNA, both human and animal. They're faster, stronger, smarter than normal humans. They have greater speed, heightened senses, and can kick ass like Bruce Lee, in fact I think they might be Bruce Lee," he smirked, lifting his hand, "A little bit. - Just imagine werewolves without the teeth, claws and 70s sideburns."

Derek glowered at him and Stiles laughed. The laughter died quickly, and Stiles returned to his explanation. "In 1995, my Mom, along with a few others, escaped from Manticore's top secret facility. They'd been planning it for months because she was pregnant, with me." Stiles took a moment to gage Derek's reaction and found the werewolf stone-faced.

He swallowed thickly as he realized what he was doing, revealing a secret he's sworn to keep till his death. He'd promised his Mom as she'd lain there dying, that he'd never tell a soul what she was. What _he_ was. And now here he stood, spilling the beans to Derek of all people.

Derek Hale, who'd done nothing but try to intimidate and scare him off for almost year.

Derek Hale, who had lied to Scott about a cure for the bite.

Derek Hale, who'd saved him from Jackson, only to end up needing saving in return.

Derek Hale, who'd gotten his text and hurried to help despite all the shit he and Scott had put him through.

He was telling him everything.

Stiles staggered back over to the bucket and sat with a thump, his gaze locking on the floor in front of him, hands beginning to tremble and heart racing so fast he could feel it throughout his body. He watched the can vibrate in his grasp, head whirling.

"Stiles?" Derek called loudly, and the teenager looked up, eyes widening with surprise. As if he'd forgotten he wasn't alone.

Stiles inhaled sharply, chest heaving as he exhaled, tears filling his eyes. The guilt a weight on his shoulders and heart, almost crushing him. He'd kept that secret for so long. 16 years he'd kept it, never telling anyone, carrying the load alone. Never trusting anyone but his mom and dad. Now she was gone, and his dad, well he just tried to forget and pretend everything was normal.

"It's okay Stiles." Derek said quietly, "You don't have…"

The teenager fixed Derek with an almost desperate look, the dam exploding inside him, "Yeah," he gasped, "I do. I've been carrying this around all my life Derek! Unable to tell a soul for fear…" he choked off, "I need to tell someone."

Derek pressed his lips into a line and nodded, resting back against the wooden frame of the living room. "Okay."

Stiles took a few deep breaths, flexing his trembling hands. "She almost died escaping that place," he began again, breathless and quiet, "She was shot by the guards, it was winter, and she was pregnant," he shook his head, "But she kept going, for me. - She made it to the highway and hitchhiked through four states, _escape and evade_ ," he clarified in a matter-of-fact tone, "before she was picked up by a deputy on his way back from visiting family in Colorado."

"Your dad?"

Stiles nodded, "Yeah. The way they tell it, it was love at first sight." he huffed a sad laugh, "They stopped off in Vegas on the way and tied the knot. I was born that following April."

"Does he…"

Stiles looked down at his watch. It was 2 am, but he didn't care, his dad wasn't due off shift until 6, so there was no one to worry if he wasn't home. "Yeah, he knows about her, and about me. He didn't care," he sobered, turning his head to stare at the plastic sheeting, "he used to say that he didn't care. That I was his son, no matter what my DNA said, but then mom died and…" he swiped angrily at his eyes, rubbing his fingers into the sockets, and forcing the conversation away from his father, "I have everything she had, including the military style training. As soon as I was old enough to walk she was teaching me to fight, to protect myself, because one day…one day they were going to come for us, and I'd need to be ready, so she said."

Derek stared at him, and Stiles could see the way he stiffened at the prospect of another threat,

"Don't worry man, it was 16 years ago."

"That won't stop them looking Stiles."

Stiles couldn't help but smile as the hint of concern in Derek's voice, then he realized it was likely concern for them, the werewolves, rather than for Stiles himself, and the smile instantly vanished. "Don't worry, Derek," he replied sharply, "The good thing about having a husband working for the sheriff's office, is it give him lots of resources to fake your death. - As fair as the world is concerned my mom died 15 years ago on the side of a road, along with her unborn child."

Derek didn't look convinced, and Stiles sighed, rubbing at his hair and getting up, "And if anyone did turn up asking questions, my dad, the _sheriff_ , would be the first to know. - We have an escape plan, if that ever happens."

"An escape plan?" Derek asked curiously.

"Yeah, so you don't have to worry about me putting you all in danger Derek, the second there's even a sniff of Manticore, we're out of here."

There was a long tense silence as Stiles and Derek stared at each other, Derek's lips pressed into a tight line, before he asked, "What about the seizures?"

Stiles straightened defensively, chest heaving, then he dropped his eyes to his shaking hands, forcing away the panic that the mere thought caused him. "While they were great at making human killing machines, they kind of fucked up along the way." he grunted angrily, "I guess they didn't much care about the small stuff, as long as the X5s could rip a man's heart out of his chest and leap over tanks. The seizures are caused by a lack of serotonin. At Manticore, Mom was given a daily dose of tryptophan to keep them under control. - Luckily tryptophan can be found in nature as well as brought over the counter, so she was able to keep it under control." Stiles licked at his lips, throat working around the tears that were threatening to silence him completely.

"We didn't know I'd inherit the seizures until after my mom died, likely because my diet changed due to Dad working all the time. We were living off junk food for six months before I had my first seizure. Then I collapsed at the station, Dad knew instantly what it was, and forced a pint of milk down my throat," Stiles looked up, "for the tryptophan. - After that, I was on the pills. Twice a day, every day, for the rest of my life." he sighed. "I guess it could be worse, huh? I mean, I could need dialysis or something equally expensive."

Derek didn't reply.

"So, there you are. That's me. That's what I am. Human but not human."

Derek watched him, and Stiles watched right back. The only sounds in the room was that of their breathing, and the buzz of the halogen light.

"I'll drive you home." Derek said, quietly at long last, getting to his feet.

Stiles stared up at him, "That's it?"

Derek nodded.

"And now what?"

"Now I take you home, I just said that."

"I mean," Stiles waved his hand between them and around the house.

Derek frowned, "What?"

"Are you going to tell…"

"No!" Derek cut him off angrily. "I don't go around spreading rumors about people, Stiles."

Stiles flinched at the condemnation, the reminder that Derek had spent almost a year suspected of killing his own sister and others because of him and Scott.

"Because if anyone know the kind of damaged can be caused if the wrong people discover you're different, its me."

Stiles exhaled a long-relieved sigh, finally standing. "Thanks Derek."

Derek shrugged, heading for the door.

_(*-*)_/

Getting his head around the idea that Stiles Stilinski, King of the Klutz, was some kind of fucking super soldier was going to take a long time, that was for sure. After all it was so ridiculous. So insane. So…. not Stiles.

And yet….

Stiles was far more intelligent and focused compared to his peers. He had instincts and stamina that rivaled that of a werewolf. He'd held Derek's dead weight up in a swimming pool for hours without complaint, well much complaint, or tiring.

Derek shook his head and dragged a hand throw his hair. He should have known. Should have realized sooner that Stiles was something more than human. The signs had all been there, but he'd ignored them, too focused on Peter and Scott, and Jackson. On being an Alpha and building a pack. God he was an idiot. No wonder his pack had fallen apart the way it had. How could he lead when he was blind to the blatantly obvious.

"It's not your fault you didn't know." Stiles suddenly announced from the passenger seat, "I spent my entire life hiding what I am. I'm very good at it."

Derek's head snapped around to stare at him, "What?"

Stiles smirked, narrowing his eyes and pressing two fingers to his temple, "You are worried you're an idiot for not realizing I'm a superhero."

Derek glowered, and the car swerved as he avoided a car at the last minute. "You read minds too?" he gasped, eyes flickering between the road and the teenager.

Stiles laughed, really laughed. Deep and happy. "No, idiot, I just know you better than you might think." he settled back against the leather seat shaking his head and grinning like the Cheshire cat. "It would be damn stupid to give super soldiers mind reading abilities anyway," Stiles dismissed with a wave of his hand, "They'd be able to know when their superiors were fucking them over and might hold a coup, which kind of happened with my mom," he acknowledged thoughtfully, "but not because she read their minds, rather they just worked it out with logic." he turned to fix Derek with a faux serious stare, "Logic is a far more powerful weapon, Jim."

"Spock never said that," Derek retaliated, fingers tight around the steering wheel.

"And you'd know that how, exactly?" Stiles smirked, "What are you a trekkie, Sourwolf?"

Derek pressed his lips together and refused to answer, which only confirmed Stiles suspicions and made the teenager laugh more rigorously.

They drove through town in silence, Stiles sliding down in the seat as they passed the Sheriff's station. When Derek pulled onto Stiles street, the young man insisted he drop him off away from the house.

"Nosy neighbors," Stiles sighed, "a teenager's worst enemy."

"You think they're bad," he nodded to the street, "try being a teenager in a house of werewolves."

Stiles huffed, amused. "I can imagine."

They sat in silence, staring out at the street. Derek's fingers tapped out a silent rhythm on the steering wheel. Time dragged on, Stiles making no move to climb out of the car, and Derek found he wasn't particularly put out by it.

Over the past few weeks, Derek had become strangely used to Stiles' constant presence. So much so in fact that he'd found himself looking forward to each day, at least until the weekend came around and Stiles spent time with Scott and his father. Then it was back to being just him. Him and an empty house that reminded him he was alone, and a failure as an Alpha.

He had Isaac of course, but it was becoming clearer by the day that the teenager wasn't happy, either because he missed his pack mates, or as Derek suspected, was finding better mentors.

Derek couldn't help but grind his teeth at the thought Isaac would rather spend time with Scott, be trained, be supported by Scott than his own alpha. What did that say about the kind of alpha Derek was?

"You okay?" Stiles asked, startling him out of his self-flagellation.

"Fine." he grunted, looking at Stiles briefly before sighing. "What happened with Scott?" he asked, for no good reason. It wasn't even any of his business.

"What?" Stiles frowned.

"You said you were running because you had a fight with Scott."

"Oh," Stiles exhaled, slumping against the leather, "Yeah."

"You don't have to tell me," Derek said quickly, "It's none of my business. I'll see you…"

"He was giving me a hard time for hanging out with you."

Derek's shoulders slumped, "I'm sorry." he muttered, "I can finish the rest of the house…"

"What?" Stiles interrupted sharply, sitting up and staring at him.

Derek looked at him regretfully, "If helping me is causing problems between you and Scott…"

"Scott is causing problems between me and Scott." Stiles snapped, "He's being an asshole because he doesn't like you, because he has trauma, but you know what, he doesn't get to tell me who I can and can't be friends with. I'm not his fucking lap dog, waiting around for him to find the time to hang out with me. If he gets to have other friends, so do I."

Derek stared at the teenager, heart racing. It had been a long time since anyone had considered him a friend and it sent a wave of warmth through him.

"That is, unless you're tired of me hanging around." Stiles asked, looking uncertain and…pleading. "I'd under…"

"No." Derek cut him off, "I like…" he swallowed, inhaling deeply, "I could do with the help."

Stiles stared at him, eyes a little sad and Derek felt his stomach churn painfully. Stiles had just called him a friend, and how had he replied?You're a convenience _. Nice Derek. Laura would be so proud._

"That's good." Stiles muttered eventually, "Well I'll see you Monday." he twisted his body to open the door.

Derek reacted without even thinking, reaching out to gripped Stiles shoulder, stalling him. The teenager turned his head, looking from the hand to Derek, his lip curling subtly. "I huh…. - Thanks." he said finally, taking a slow deep breath, "For…. trusting me."

Stiles stared at him, eyes locked. The car grew quiet as the grave, and almost as suffocating. Derek yanked his hand away from Stiles shoulder, breaking whatever spell had begun to weave its way around them.

"Back at ya, big guy." Stiles nodded, smiling softly at him. "See you Monday." then he was gone.

Derek sat watching Stiles marching up the street and turn into his front yard before starting the car. As he drove past he found Stiles waiting on the front stoop, waving at him. Derek lifted his hand and returned the gesture.

_(*-*)_/

Surprisingly things went back to normal after their conversation. Stiles turned up Monday morning, same time as always, in the same ratty clothes, nervously expecting things to be weird between him and Derek, only to find the werewolf had already started on the back living room wall. Derek looked over as he'd strolled into the house, nodded at the pile of plaster board and nail gun and grunted, "Try not to shoot yourself in the foot."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man, wishing he'd never told him about that. "I told you that in confidence, man." Stiles grumbled, heading over to the machine.

"Doesn't mean I can't bring it up, just that I can't tell anyone else." Derek reasoned loudly over the _pow pow_ of his own gun.

Stiles shot him daggers and wondered if shooting Derek in the back would be all that bad, considering he was a werewolf and could heal. That said, Derek would likely attempt to shoot him in return. Stiles' lips curved at the vision in his mind of him out running Derek's shots, speeding between rooms while Derek growled angrily.

"Are you just going to stand there all day?"

Shaking his head, the smile still fixed to his face, Stiles slid on the protective goggles and started work.

Four hours later the room was done, and he and Derek were sat in the middle of the new walls, sharing lunch.

"Have you found anything else?"

Derek looked up from his sandwich and shook his head, "No."

Stiles sighed regretfully, "Where else have you looked?"

There were a few seconds of silence and then Derek scrambled to his feet, heading over to one of the large crates in the corner he must have moved in over the weekend. Lifting the lid, Derek pulled something out and brought it back to Stiles. Derek shoved his sandwich and sofa out of the way and unrolled the sheet of paper.

Stiles stared down at the map, eyes darting across the grid, only a hand full of which had red crosses through them. Stiles leant forward, eyes flickering between the lines.

"This is where I found the phone." Derek pointed to a square that covered the far end of the lake. There was a path of marked square that lead from the house to the lake, each with thick red lines through them. "By the time I found it," he sighed, "any sigh of them was gone."

Stiles hummed thoughtfully, "Maybe they just left town."

Derek looked up through his lashes skeptically and Stiles sighed, "I'm just saying," he defended, "they could have headed to the lake to avoid the Argent's after they were let go and spent a few nights and them slipped away."

Derek released a long tired sigh, "That's what Isaac thinks too," he shook his head dismissively, "but Boyd wouldn't leave his phone," Derek insisted firmly, "It's the only line of contact with his sister," he fetched the cell from his duffle bag, tossing it to Stiles, who stared down at it.

It was an old Samsung SGH-E700. They'd been popular back in the early 2000s, seeming futuristic and cool. Stiles remembered seeing Boyd with it, had heard Jackson berating him for not getting something more up to date. Saying he must be really poor if he couldn't even afford a new cell phone.

Derek sat back down beside him. "His mom gave it to him, so she could call him from her job at the diner and the hospital, to check up on him and his sister."

All the pieces slid into place and he winced inwardly. "His sister went missing back in what? 03?"

"04." Derek muttered, picking at his sandwich but making no move to eat any more. "They were at the ice rink, Boyd wanted to leave, but Alicia refused to go, they had a fight and Boyd stormed off. - He sat in the stands reading a comic book, but when he looked up a few minutes later, she was gone."

"They've never found her." Stiles whispered sadly, staring down at the cell phone. "Yeah, I remember. Dad," he swallowed, "He took it bad, I have a vague memory of Mom telling me about it. She used it as a lesson, warning me that even the most public places were still dangerous."

"My mom tried to find her, but the pack couldn't pick up her scent. She never quite got over it," he chewed at the inside of his lip, "She used to say, that as Alpha, her responsibly wasn't just to the pack, but to the town."

Stiles rubbed his thumb over the phone, thoughtfully. "Is that why Boyd took the bite?" Stiles suddenly asked, surprised it had taken him this long to figure out his old classmate's motivation.

He knew why both Isaac and Erica had taken it. It was pretty obvious really, with Isaac's abusive father and Erica's epilepsy, but he'd never quite gotten what Boyd got from the bite. Until now.

Derek looked at him, nodding. "Erica told him about...everything. She said I might be able to help. When he came asking for the bite, I wasn't sure, I told him we were werewolves, not bloodhounds," Derek smiled sadly, "But he insisted, and..." He glanced up guiltily, "I... wanted a pack, so..." Derek shrugged.

"You needed the power, so you bit him." Stiles stated matter-of-factly, his ton holding only the smallest hint of judgement.

"It wasn't about power, not solely." Derek sighed, "An alpha without a pack is a danger to all those around him. They go...crazy,"

Stiles scoffed, "Are you say Peter was sane before he became an alpha, because..."

"Peter was a manipulative bastard, but it was the fire and the coma that broke him. However, becoming an Alpha makes matters so much worse."

"Worse?" Stiles huffed, "He killed five people, how much worse could it get?"

"The whole town." Derek replied flatly.

Stiles stared sat him, eyes wide. "You're kidding me, right?"

Derek shook his head regretfully, "A small town in New Mexico was practically decimated five years ago by a packless alpha. Before Argent stepped in." he took a long sip of his soda, now warm, " I didn't want that to happen to me, but I did just attack three teenagers in the dark, I'm not Peter." he insisted firmly, "I found two kids whose lives were in danger and needed saving and gave them a choice. Gave them an option. - Boyd came to me."

Stiles stared at him, heart beating hard against his ribs, and he nodded. "Yeah."

They fell silent, the map forgotten between them, Boyd's phone still in his hand, growing warm with his body heat.

"I can help, if you want?" Stiles muttered quietly, not meeting Derek's gaze.

"Why?"

Stiles glowered, "They were my friends too," at Derek disbelieving look Stiles huffed out a correction, "Okay, so we weren't, you know, _friend_ friends but I liked them, if they're in trouble I want to help."

Derek watched him for a long few seconds, causing Stiles to fidget awkwardly. "What about Scott?" He asked.

Stiles exhaled a tired sigh, "I already told you, Scott doesn't dictate my life man. Besides, he's always busy now with either working or studying."

Something flickered across Derek's face briefly, so quick Stiles almost missed it, "In that case," he nodded, "I'd appreciate the help."

In silent agreement, the pair tossed away the remains of their lunch and got back to work. When the sky began to turn a burnt orange, Stiles headed home for a shower and some clean clothes. When he returned to the house a few hours later, darkness had fallen, and Derek was patiently waiting on the porch steps for him. Together they headed out onto the preserve hunting for any sign of the missing pack members.

_(*-*)_/

By the time the last week of the summer vacation rolled around, the house was almost complete. Stepping back Derek looked up at it with a mixture of pride and sadness. The structural damage had meant he'd been forced to rip down the upper floors and regin again, leaving the house looking almost unrecognizable. He'd added an extra floor, and changed the layout some, not wanting the constant reminder of what he'd lost. His bedroom was now on the third floor instead of the second as it had been growing up. There were six other bedrooms, and two bathrooms, and has Derek racked his gaze over the exterior he couldn't help but wonder if they'd ever actually house anyone else.

In the month they'd been looking for Erica and Boyd, they'd found nothing. Not a single sign. It was as if they'd vanished off the face of the planet, which made Derek incredibly nervous.

"We did good." Stiles hummed proudly, "It looks great."

Derek nodded, turning to look at the teenager beside him, "Yeah. Thanks for helping."

Stiles shrugged, smiling. "My pleasure Sourwolf. I actually enjoyed it, it was nice to have something to focus on."

"To keep your mind of Scott." Derek remarked, turning back to stare at their hard work.

Things with Stiles and Scott hadn't improved. While Stiles was spending all his time with Derek, either renovating the house, or searching for Erica and Boyd, Scott was working two jobs. Derek knew it was hard for Stiles, they'd been friends for years now, and it was always a struggle when such friendships disintegrated, especially without reason. Derek had seen the hurt look on Stiles face when they'd headed to the diner after a hard day's work and they'd seen Scott, Isaac and Danny sharing a pizza. Stiles had stood outside, looking through the window with a pained expression on his face that had ripped through Derek's chest like a hunter's blade. Then Stiles had turned on his heels and marched off. As far as Derek was aware, he and Scott had barely spoken since.

Stiles stiffened beside him, and ignoring the mention of his ex-best friend, "So, when are you moving in?"

"I've been living here since I put the new floorboards down in the den." Derek reminded him.

Stiles rolled his eyes, "I know, I meant..."

Derek took a breath as he realized what Stiles was asking. It wasn't when was he moving in, but rather when was Isaac moving in.

Isaac had taken up residence at the McCall home without any real discussion, it kind of just happened. Derek had moved into the house, so he could start work on the house early and work late, and it was close to the preserve, so he could continue his search. Isaac hadn't wanted to live on a building sight and had insisted on staying at the deport. However, when he'd turned up one Saturday to help Derek with the first floor, smelling of Scott and Melissa, Derek had known where he was sleeping.

Much like Stiles reaction to Scott and Isaac's growing friendship, Derek felt a sting of jealousy, betrayal and rejection, "I don't know," Derek replied, "we haven't discussed it."

Stiles sighed, nodding and burying his hands into his hoodie pockets. "I'm actually dreading going back," he added after a long pause, "I'm genuinely considering home schooling."

"Maybe you should talk to him," Derek muttered, his own hands slipping into the pockets of his stained and ripped grey sweat pants, "wave a white flag."

Stiles glowered angrily, "I'm not apologizing!"

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed, "I'm not saying apologize. I'm saying call a truce and try to rebuild your friendship."

Stiles grunted, "He doesn't want my friendship, he's got Isaac and Danny now." He sounded bitter and Derek couldn't completely blame him, it took two to keep a friendship going.

Not that Derek would know, he'd only had one real friend in his life, and he hadn't spoken to Clay since moving back to Beacon Hills. - He figured he was a bad friend too.

"Just because they're friends Stiles, doesn't mean Scott can't be friends with you." He turned his head, fixing the teenager with a hard look, "I know you're not that childish."

Stiles met his gaze rebelliously, "Want makes you think that? My dad and half the town would disagree."

"Because I've spent almost every day with you for two months." He replied matter-of-factly. "Be the better person Stiles, unless you want to spend the next two years sitting alone at lunch."

Stiles huffed indignantly, "Hey, I can make other friends. I don't need school. I'll just sit with..." He trailed off thoughtfully, mouth hanging open, at a loss.

Derek smirked, satisfied he'd made his point.

"Asshole." Stiles grunted out beside him.

Derek ignored it, "How about I treat you to a final lunch?"

"Final?" Stiles frowned, "What, that's it? You've gotten what you want and now your dumping me?" He accused, scandalized, but Derek could hear the seriousness beneath.

Derek stared at him, eyes soft with gratitude and what he hoped was reassurance, "Yeah, summer flings don't mean a thing."

Stiles gaped at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter, "Grease? The mighty Alpha, Derek Hale just quoted Grease," he panted between words and laughter, "oh god, I wish I'd had a camera, that's priceless man. Wait till I tell Scott, he can't hate a guy who quotes Grease, that's just wrong."

Derek glared at him, jaw clenched, and eyes narrowed, "When your quite finished," he growled, eyes flashing red in warning.

It only made Stiles laugh harder, and he doubled over, hands on his knees panting for breath. He looked as if he'd run a marathon.

"Now who's the asshole," Derek grunted, turning to head for the Camaro, "buy your own damn lunch."

Stiles jogged after him, "Come on Sourwolf, there's nothing to be ashamed of," he choked back a fresh string of laughter, "Grease is a classic. I mean, it could be worse, you could like Grease 2." One look at Derek's face, his mouth opening to argue, had Stiles roaring with laughter again, as he climbed into the sleek black car.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope this answered all the questions as to who Stiles is. I know some readers aren't familiar with Dark Angel, so I apologize for the terminology. If you have any questions, I'll happily answer them, as long as it isn't going to reveal spoilers, (unless you want spoilers, in which case you can PM me or message me via my Tumblr,**

 **As always, feedback would be most welcome.**


	3. She Ain't Heavy

**A/N: Yes, you've gotten another chapter in the space of 24 hours but please don't get too used to it. If there's one thing I've learnt from all my years writing fanfic, this productive streak won't last. Eventually I'll hit the wall and they'll be a long gap. - However, until then, lets enjoy ourselves.**

* * *

 **She Ain't Heavy**

Stiles climbed out of Rosco and stared at the school, his heart racing a little with nervous anticipation. He probably should have listened to Derek and spoken to Scott over the weekend, but if he were honest, he wasn't sure he wanted it. He knew he was being stubborn and perhaps a little pig headed about it, but hey, it wasn't like Scott had made any effort to apologize either. No, Scott had just decided to hang out with Isaac instead. He hadn't texted to find out if Stiles was alright. Not once since their fight.

The most painful thing was, the realization that losing Scott's friendship didn't kill him. He's spent half the summer trying to figure out why it didn't feel that his heart had been ripped out. Why seeing him hanging out with Isaac and Danny, didn't leave him feeling broken. He'd thought long and hard about it, lain awake at night rolling the question over him his mind. There were sheets of paper under his bed brainstorming for an answer, and the best he could figure was…. they were never really friends to start with.

Or at least, not the bestest of best friends to ever best friend.

When they'd met back in middle school, they were two broken kids. He'd lost his mom, and his dad in a way. He'd been struggling under the pressure of his secret, and the judgmental eyes of teachers and students. Scott had lost his dad, forced to move to a neighboring town where he knew no one. Awkward and shy, suffering at the hands of asthma and Jackson Whittmore. Two lost kids looking for someone to help them through the day.

It was a heartbreaking realization, but it put everything into perspective. The way Scott hadn't listened to him, had dismissed his warnings and concerns. Hadn't come to him about Gerard Argent or discussed his plan with him. The way finding him, hadn't been Scott's priority when the man had taken him.

Although Stiles can't exactly be the only one throwing stone, can he? He'd kept a pretty massive secret from Scott their entire friendship. Two if you count the name thing. Which is exactly why he'd come to question just how solid his and Scott's friendship actually was. Because he'd told Derek so easily, after only a few weeks. Sure, he'd kind of been found out, but that didn't explain why he'd never told Scott. Scott who was supposed to be his best friend. Scott who he told everything to, - except when he didn't.

The fact was, even the strongest friends could drift apart with age and time. He and Scott were no different. They weren't lost boys any more, Scott had found a place on the lacrosse field and in Deaton surgery, he'd found Allison, if briefly, and Isaac.

While Stiles, he'd found the existence of werewolves and the supernatural. He'd found a surprising enjoyment of hard labour, and the desire to protect the town he loved. He'd found a new friend in Derek.

But most importantly, Stiles had found himself.

The sound of an engine pulled Stiles out of his nervous internal monologue with a start. Twisting his head, his eyes widened as a green dirt bike pulled into a space a few feet away. Stiles frowned at the recognizable grey jacket. Scott had a bike? Since when? How the hell had he convinced Melissa to agree to that?

Scott reached up, pulling off the helmet while still sat astride the machine. Stiles watched him stare up at the school, before Scott sensed his eyes on him and turned. There was a tense moment of recognition across the carpark before Scott gave him a nod and swung his leg over the seat, grabbing his bag from the back, and headed for the steps.

Despite knowing that their friendship wasn't the deep soul connection he'd spent years believing, Stiles still felt the rejection. _"Be the bigger man."_ He heard Derek grumble in his head and inhaled deeply. Surely, they could be friends, if not best friends, right? Stiles asked himself.

Pushing away from Rosco, Stiles adjusted his bag on his shoulder and hurried after Scott. He Scott was already at his locker when Stiles burst through the double door. Glancing around at his fellow juniors, god was he really a junior? Already? Shit. Stiles sort out the rest of their little band. While Scott was shoving his helmet into his locker, and god was Stiles fighting to keep himself from making a joke about that, Lydia and Jackson were leant up against Lydia's locker, arguing. It seems despite their big dramatic reunion, where Lydia's love had literally saved Jackson, and the rest of them, they were back to bickering. And by the way Lydia shrugged off Jackson's touch, well on their way to another break up.

Derek had told him all about the two-month training sessions with a still angry and troubled Jackson, where he help teach him how to control himself, with the help surprisingly from Peter, go figure. Then Jackson's dad had dragged him off to Europe for the summer. Watching Lydia march furiously away from Jackson, Stiles came to the conclusion; absence did not make the heart grow fonder and smirked to himself. If things were crashing between them again, maybe Stiles would finally get a chance to prove himself to Lydia.

Looking back over to Scott's locker, he found his ex-best friend gone and sighed. He rushed to his own locker and shoved his backpack inside, grabbing the books he was going to need for his first class, then hurried down the hall.

Stepping into the room his eyes instantly sort out Scott, as they always did. Taking the seat behind him, Stiles watched the back of his head, foot tapping anxiously at the leg of his desk. He glanced around as the rest of the class piled in, taking their seats and muttering to one another about their summers. There was no sign of Allison, the seat in front of Scott's empty.

Twisting his head, he looked at the three empty seats in the back corner, where Isaac, Boyd and Erica would sit, and felt his chest tighten. They'd looked everywhere over the summer, but other than the cellphone Derek had found, there was no sign of the werewolves. Frowning, Stiles leant forward, taking a breath before asking, "Is Isaac not coming to school?"

Scott turned, looking at him with surprise, eyes flickering over to Isaac's empty seat, then back to Stiles, shrugging. "I haven't seen him since Saturday night," he didn't sound happy about that, "I assumed he'd gone back to Derek."

The way he said Derek's name made Stiles clench his teeth. He gave Scott a nod and settled back in his seat as Scott turned back to face the front of the class. _So much for fixing things_ , Stiles thought. Reaching for his cell, Stiles quickly typed out a message to Derek

 **Is Isaac at the house?**

Surprisingly, he didn't have to wait long for an answer.

 **No. Why?**

Shifting uncomfortably, Stiles looked at the classroom door, then Scott's head, then back to the cell. Swallowing against the sudden lump of fear.

 **He's not in school and Scott says he hasn't spoken to him since Saturday night.**

The new incoming text wasn't a reply from Derek however. Stiles frowned down confused at the screen, along with every other member of his class.

 **The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost….**

Stiles looked up from the message as a dark haired woman strolled in, "…. ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness. This is the last line to the first book we're going to read." she smiled at them, lifting her phone, "It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off."

Staring at the woman for a long moment, Stiles decided he didn't like her. What kind of person stole a someone's ability to communicate with the outside world? What if there was an emergency? What if there was a tsunami or a terrorist attack? What if the government needed to send out a 4-minute warning? He couldn't just turn off his phone like that, it was important. Lifting his eyes to the woman he gritted his teeth and he reluctantly turned off the cell, catching a glance of an incoming message a split second before the screen went blank. Evil, he decided with a grunt. That was what she was. Pure evil.

The classroom fell silent as the new teacher fully introduced herself and told them what they were going to be doing, before turning to scribble across the blackboard.

Stiles leg bounced beneath his desk as he scribbled a note, eyes flickering up to check that Ms Blake, their new English teacher wasn't watching him, before tossing it forward onto Scott's desk. He watched anxiously as his ex-best friend read it, but before he could get an answer, Ms Blake's smooth soft voice cut through the silence.

"Mr. McCall?" she wiggled her finger, summoning Scott to the front of class.

Stiles frowned, sharing a look with the werewolf as he gathered his things, shrugging. Ms Blake led Scott outside and Stiles strained his hearing to listen.

 _"I'm sure it's an emergency if your mother need you to leave school,"_

Stiles frowned, sitting up alert. An emergency? With Melissa?

 _"but I'm gonna give you a warning in the nicest possible way. I am well aware of your attendance record. I don't wanna see you slip back into old habits."_

 _"I won't. It's gonna be different this year."_ Scott insisted, and he sounded determined.

 _"Resolutions are only good if you stick with them, Scott."_ Ms Blake replied, and Stiles couldn't help the way his fingers tightened around his pen defensively.

She had no idea what Scott had been through last year, what they'd all been through.

 _"I will."_ Scott promised, a smile in his voice. _"I promise it won't be ephemeral."_

Stiles frowned, _Ephemeral?_ Where the hell did Scott learn that? Had he eaten a dictionary for breakfast? Stiles snorted to himself, once upon a time, he might have actually been able to convince Scott to do that.

He heard Scott's footsteps leading away from the classroom and considered risking Ms Blake's wrath by texting to check everything was alright with Melissa. They may not be friends right now, but Melissa had been the closest thing to a mother he'd had the past seven years, he'd hate for anything to happen to her.

Regretfully before he could get his phone out, Ms Blake was back in the class and looking at them all suspiciously, her eyes settling on him before she turned back to the blackboard. With a heavy sigh, Stiles glanced at Lydia in the seat beside him, the morning sunlight creating a halo through her strawberry blonde hair, perfect as always. His gaze flickered over her and he frowned at the sight of a large Band-Aid on her ankle. "Hey, Lydia?" he whispered, calling her attention.

She looked over with that trademark put upon look, "What?"

"What is that?" He asked quietly, pointing down to the injury.

Lydia flushed slightly, shifting her ankle to cover the Band-Aid with her other leg. Her eyes flickered over to the teacher and Stiles expected her to ignore him, as she'd done since 8th grade. "Prada bit me." she eventually replied.

Stiles frowned, "Your dog?"

"No, my designer handbag?" Lydia rolled her eyes, going back to her school work.

"Has it ever bitten you before?"

Lydia stilled for a moment, then shook her head.

Stiles stared past her as his head began to spark to life, shuffling through information. On Friday evening, on the drive home from Derek's, Stiles had come across a car accident. Being the civic minded young man, or nosy, you know, whatever, he'd stopped. What he'd found when he'd climbed out of his jeep was a young couple, shaking with shock. The front window of their car had been violently decorated with a deer. Apparently, according to the couple, the deer in question had ran directly at them, breaking through the glass and missing the driver by mere inches. The creature hadn't died on impact and it was still whining in pain when his dad arrived and put the thing out of its misery.

It was such a strange occurrence that it had instantly plucked at Stiles curiosity, and he'd still been researching similar incidence that morning when his dad had dragged him away from his computer and demanded he go to school.

And now Lydia's previously docile dog was taking bites out of her. His instincts said there was something happening, something…coming. Something…bad. However, his rational mind said it could just be a coincidence, He hadn't found any other suicidal animals accidents online, so yeah coincidence.

The sound of something hitting the window had Stiles heart skipping a beat and his spine straightening. He refocused, his gut rebelling at the sight of blood, feathers and god he didn't want to think about what else, painting the glass. Ms Blake went over to the window, and Stiles stretching to see what the woman was staring at.

Another bird hit the glass, followed by another. Again, and again until eventually the thin pane couldn't take it and shattered. Crows filled the room, screaming and flying head first into walls. A few dove at his fellow students and Stiles threw himself over Lydia, hand pressing into her head, forcing it low, ducking his own head close.

It felt like an eternity before the deafening roar of flapping wings and high pitch squawking stopped. Breathless and shaking, Stiles pulled himself up straight, looking around at the river of dead birds carpeting the classroom floor. Blood coating the walls.

Three's a pattern.

_(*-*)_/

Derek paced the den, teeth biting at the inside of his cheek. He'd allowed himself to believe that Isaac wasn't in danger, that he was safe, even if it wasn't under Derek's roof. He'd apparently been a fool. "Dammit." he growled furiously, marching over to the window. He'd begun to convince himself that Boyd and Erica's disappearance really was just two teenagers running away from the danger he'd dragged them into, now though…. - If whatever had taken his betas was coming after Isaac, it was personal. It had to be personal. An attack on him.

But from who? Derek wasn't fool enough to think he hadn't made enemies, life in New York hadn't been as simple as Beacon Hills. Urban packs could be both more and less territorial. There were multiple packs living in the city, scratching out their own small corners, and they defended them fiercely. However, there were also vastly welcoming. When he'd met Clay on his first day at Colombia, he'd expected a battle for dominance and control of campus, what he'd found was an approachable young man eager to make friends and deathly loyal. He was also a determined matchmaker as both he and Nick…

Shaking his head, he forced himself to forget the past and focus of the present. There was a threat, and Isaac was the latest victim. He had to talk to Scott, find out all he could about Isaac's routine over the past two months. It twisted painfully in his gut that he had to rely on an omega for information about his own Beta.

Derek was shrugging into his jacket at the door when his phone rang and he hurriedly yanked it free of his pocket, inhaling a breath at the unknown number. "Hello?" he said cautiously.

 _"Mr. Hale? This is Beacon Hills Hospital."_

Derek sucked in a breath, "Yes?"

 _"We have you as the emergency contact for Isaac Lahey."_

He hurried out the door, pulling it closed behind him as he answered, "Yes? What's happened to him?" Panic settled in his chest.

 _"He was involved in an accident in the early hours of this morning,"_ the nurse said, sounding apologetically.

This morning? "Is he okay?" Derek demanded, climbing into the Camaro and starting the engine.

"He's still conscious, the doctor can explain everything more clearly in person."

"I'm on my way, thank you."

He sped to the hospital, not much caring if he got pulled over. It wasn't just the fact that Isaac was injured that had him breaking traffic laws, there was also the concern of an eagle-eyed doctor noticing Isaac was healing a little too quickly and would inevitably start poking around. He had no idea if Melissa McCall was on duty.

He pulled into the carpark twenty minutes later and ran inside. The nurse at the front desk smiled at him with far too many teeth than would be considered appropriate in the circumstances and informed him that Isaac was down the hall in room 418. He grunted a polite thanks and hurried past the bustling staff.

He turned the corner that would take him to 418 and drew to a halt, frowning as he saw a woman with dark hair pushing an unconscious Isaac out of the room in a wheelchair. One sniff of the air told him she wasn't human. She caught his scent too, turning to fix him with a blue-eyed gaze, before turning quickly away, pushing Isaac at speed down the corridor.

Derek took off after her. At the end of the hall the elevator doors opened, and his heart stuttered at the sight of Melissa McCall, her gaze flickering between Isaac and the woman pushing him.

The strange werewolf, shoved hard at Melissa with the wheelchair, knocking her back into the elevator, before reaching over to hit the button to close the doors. Pushing himself harder, Derek increased his speed and just managed to skim between the closing doors.

Getting to his feet he turned to meet the werewolf. She was younger up close, the same age as Isaac himself at a guess, but that wasn't going to stop Derek ripping her throat out. He stepped forward, teeth bared and claws ready to tear through flesh.

He crouched low, prepared to attack, unsurprised when she mirrored his stance, her eyes flashing blue. "Who are you?" Derek growled at her.

She didn't reply, choosing instead to attack, flying forward to swipe her claws across his chest. He leapt out of the way, twisting his whole body so that she slammed into the back wall of the elevator. While his attacker regained her footing, Derek glanced over to Melissa, reassuring himself she was alright, the last thing he wanted was to have to tell Scott she'd been injured, or worse.

Melissa looked up at him with a fearful gaze, chest heaving. Derek shot a meaningful look to Isaac and she nodded, then he turned back to face his opponent. He was too slow, and a set of claws sliced through his sides. He threw back his head and let out a loud roar of pain, pulling Isaac from his unconscious state, eyes flashing gold and features shifted.

Isaac leapt to his feet, rushing at the girl, slamming her into the wall so hard it cracked. Derek joined him, wrapping his fingers tight around the girl's throat, his claws piercing the skin. "Who are you?" he demanded, red eyes flashing.

She narrowed her eyes him, jaw rebelliously poking out and Derek inhaled sharply, hand pulling away as if burnt and his head span from the shock.

"Derek?" Isaac snarled, looking at him confused.

"Cora?" Derek whispered, leaning his face closer, green eyes searching the altered features.

The girl's blue eyes flickered back to green for a second and her brows furrowed, mirroring Derek's confusion. Then the elevator doors swept open and she kicked violently at Isaac's knee, breaking the bone and causing the werewolf to crumple to the ground. She gave Derek one last look before sprinting out of the elevator.

Derek took a step forward to follow her, but the sound of Isaac's pained cry at his feet stilled him. Looking back to Melissa who had crawled over to examine Isaac's broken leg. Derek look back to where the girl had vanished, his eyes burning with tears, a thousand and one questions whirling around his head.

"Derek?"

He turned, nodding as he crouched to scoop up Isaac. "Are you alright?" he asked Melissa solemnly.

"Yes. - He needs surgery." Melissa informed him, looking at the exposed bone.

Derek swallowed his pounding heart and shook his head, "He'll be fine." he informed her, turning with the teenager.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles perched on the edge of his desk, phone in hand while his dad moved between small groups of students and parents, attempting to reassure them. EMT's were treating the ones with the worst injuries. As far as anyone was concerned it was a freak incident. Ms Blake, was sat on her desk staring into the space, feathers poking out of her hair and white as a sheet.

He looked down at his cell, fingers moving to open the messages from Derek he'd ignored in preference to calling his dad and telling him about the freak crow attack at the school.

 **I'll look into it.** Was Derek's first message, sent almost an hour ago now. It was soon followed by another just ten minutes later.

 **Isaac's at the hospital. I'm heading there now.**

The final one was sent only thirty minutes ago, while they were all trying not to have their eyes pecked out.

 **Isaac's fine, but I need to talk to you. Come to the house as soon as you can.**

Stiles frowned, "Shit, what now?" he muttered under his breath.

"Stiles?" his dad asked, looking down at him, "You alright?"

Stiles shoved his phone in his pocket and nodded, "Well considering I was just in the middle of a mass avian suicide, I'm surprisingly alright."

His dad stared at him, the small vain in his temple popping out. It only did that when he was really worried, and Stiles felt his heart swell, "I'm fine Dad. A couple of scratches." he held up his hand, but it was already clear. Werewolves weren't the only ones that healed quickly.

His dad looked at the hand for a long moment, that shadow passing over his features once again, the one that said he was thinking of his dead wife and what Stiles was. "Are you okay to get home?"

Stiles chewed at his lower lip and nodded, "Yeah." he turned to see Lydia being comforted by Jackson. "I'll see you later then." he said, getting to his feet.

"Yeah."

There was a tense moment before Stiles was pulled into a tight embrace. He buried his face into his dad's shoulder and took a deep breath, then stepped back and headed for the door.

Stiles pulled up outside Derek house twenty minutes later, just as Scott's bike roared to a stop next to him. Shoving open the door, he frowned, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you same," Scott huffed, his tone sharp and accusing. Like Stiles had no right to be at the house he'd helped rebuild.

 _Be the bigger man_. He reminded himself. "Is your mom alright?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"No thanks to Derek?" Scott grunted.

"What?"

"There was an attack at the hospital, someone tried to grab Isaac."

Stiles worriedly started towards the house, "Did they hurt Melissa?" he asked over his shoulder.

"She's got a couple of bruised shins and a slight concussion."

"Thank god," Stiles said, hurrying up the porch steps, and bursting through the front door without bothering to knock. "Derek?"

"Up here!"

Stiles took the stairs up to the first floor two at a time, "Marco!" he called at the top,

"Polo!" Derek called back from the room to his left and Stiles headed straight for it.

"Hey, wow, is he okay?" Stiles asked, wincing as he stared at Isaac stretched out on the bed Derek picked for him, a body sheet beneath his legs.

"He'll be fine, he's healing, finally." Derek sighed, straightening. "We need to…" he trailed off as his gaze drifted passed Stiles. "Scott?"

"Derek." Scott greeted through gritted teeth.

"How's your mom?"

"She'll be fine. What happened? Who was that girl and what did she want with Isaac?" Scott demanded angrily, eyes flickering passed Derek to the bed, before turning back to the alpha accusingly.

Stiles hated tension at the best of times, the suffocating pressure building right there between Scott and Derek was making him almost breathless. "Okay," he interrupted, holding his hands up, "How about we take this downstairs and let Isaac recover."

Neither werewolf moved, and Stiles sighed, looking to the heavens for mercy, "Derek." he said finally, wrapping his fingers around the alpha's bicep and giving him a tug that had the man stumbling forward a step.

With a deep sigh of surrender, Derek led the way out of the room and down to the den, where he positioned himself, arms folded over his chest by the fireplace. Stiles followed Scott down, and almost laughed at the defensive posture Derek was showing, but then consider Scott's attitude and decided Derek was right to be on guard.

"So?" Scott growled, stopping a few feet into the doorway, and tossed his helmet onto the couch.

Stiles gritted his teeth, and moved over to perch on the arm, lifting the mud splattered thing off the couch and placing it on the coffee table.

"I think you're forgetting who you're talking to," Derek warned, and Stiles watched him. Whatever patience and understanding Derek had for the younger werewolf was gone.

"You're not my alpha," Scott reminded him sharply.

"No," Derek nodded in agreement, "but I am Isaac's, and this is my house, so I suggest you rethink that tone."

Stiles looked over at Scott, his ex-friend's lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes burning gold as they stared back at Derek, which instantly had Derek flashing his own coloured irises.

"Woah, woah, woah," Stiles said hurriedly, stepping into the middle of the room. "Let's lower the wattage shall we. Scott, I know your mom raised you better than that,"

Scott shot him a betrayed look and Stiles glared. "Who attacked my mom?" he demanded loudly, turning to Derek. "She said you knew her."

Stiles turned his head to look at Derek, watching as the alpha turned his back to them, shoulders slumping. "Derek?"

"She's…" his inhaled deeply, head twisting to glance at Stiles over his shoulder. "…my sister."

Stiles frowned, "What?"

"Your sister?" Scott gasped, "But I thought everyone was…"

"So, did I." Derek breathed, padding over to drop down on the couch, his head falling into his hands, when he looked up his eyes had a distinctive shimmer to them. "We were told that Peter was the only one to survive. They had bodies, eight bodies. Everyone was accounted for, I don't…"

Stiles sighed, "Let's face it, the investigation wasn't particularly well done, was it? Maybe someone was bought off."

Derek looked at him, "Bought off?"

Stiles shrugged, "To cover up a kidnapping." the moment he said it, he wished he hadn't. The look that appeared on Derek's face at the thought of someone kidnapping his little sister ripped into Stiles chest. "I'm sorry, Derek." he said softly.

"Why would she attack Isaac?" Scott asked, voice quiet, "She here after revenge?"

"Revenge?" Derek frowned,

"Well you know," Scott looked between the alpha and Stiles, "For not saving her. For creating a new pack."

Stiles head snapped around just in time to watch Derek shatter, and without really thinking about it, he marched over to the couch, his hand pressing into the man's shoulder. "We'll just have to find her and find out." he squeezed the firm muscle under his hand.

"And if it is revenge?" Scott asked.

Derek lifted his gaze, fixing the teenager with a hard look. "Then I'll deal with it." there was steel in his voice, and a warning. This wasn't anything to do with Scott, this was pack business. Derek's pack.

Scott clearly understood that too, because his features tightened, and he opened his mouth to argue, when a shaky voice pulled all their attention to stairs.

"Where's the woman?" Isaac asked, looking between them all.

Derek got to his feet instantly, marching over to him. "It's alright, you don't have to worry about her." he reassured firmly, "We'll find her before she can try to take you again."

Isaac stared at him, confused for a few second then shook his head, "Not the girl in the elevator, the one on the bike. The one that saved my life."

* * *

 **A/N: How was that? Feedback is always appreciated.**


	4. Dawg Day Afternoon

**Dawg Day Afternoon**

"So, wait. You remember some mysterious woman on a motorcycle saved your life, but you don't remember where she found you, or where you'd been for the past day and a half?" Stiles scoffed, hovering between Scott and Derek as they stood interrogating Isaac, who was sat nervous and confused on the couch, looking up at them.

"You don't know why Derek's sister attacked you at the hospital?"

Stiles and Derek's head snapped around at the same moment, brows judging as they stared at Scott, who at least had the common decency to look sheepish. It was almost like looking into the face of his best friend again, Stiles thought and smiled.

"We'll find her." Derek grunted, "We'll find both of them and get some answers. What did this woman on the bike look like?"

Isaac closed his eyes, brows knitting together in concentration. "African-American." he started, "I…I didn't really get a good look at her face. She was wearing a helmet,"

"Then how do you know she's African-American?" Stiles pressed.

"I saw her hands and the back of her neck. And she was seriously strong, but… I don't think she was a werewolf."

"Anything else?" Scott pressed.

"A tattoo," Isaac nodded, "on the back of her neck. It looked like…" he shook his head, then looked up at his three observers. "It looked like a barcode."

Stiles flinched, all the air leaving his lungs in one swift movement, as if he'd been punched hard in the gut, causing his head to spin.

His hands began to shake while his heart slammed over and over into his ribs, looking for escape. Was the room spinning? _Yes, yes it was_. Was he even still standing anymore? He looked down, but his vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the shadows. He tried to swallow but couldn't make his throat work. _When had it gotten so hot in here?_

Stiles clawed at his t-shirt and blinked, desperately trying to clear his vision. Trying to fight away the encroaching darkness.

"Stiles?"

That was Scott. _Why was Scott there? Where the hell am I?_

Stiles felt strong hands on his arms and then he was floating, floating through the air. He landed on a cloud, a nice comfy cloud, but there was still no air.

How could he be on a cloud with no air?

"Stiles, calm down."

 _Derek? That was Derek. Was he on the cloud too? No, Derek couldn't be on a cloud, he hated flying._

"Stiles, you have to calm down." Derek ordered, pressing a hand into his chest. Pushing him into the cloud. "Just take it slow. In and Out, Stiles. In. Out. - It's fine. You're safe, Stiles. You're _safe_."

 _He's safe_. Safe with Derek. Because Derek knows. _He knows it all_. Derek knows what he is, and he doesn't care. _But they're here. They've finally come for him, just as mom said_. _But I'm not ready. I'm not strong enough to fight them. They're going to take me away. Away from Dad. Away from Scott. - Away from Derek._

"Stiles you're safe!" Derek snapped.

 _He sounds angry. Derek always sounds angry. Sourwolf. Grumpy McGrumpyson._

"What are you doing?"

 _Now Scott is angry, great. Scott shouldn't be angry. Scott should be chill, he's practically a Buddhist, a Buddhist werewolf. But he's angry. He's always angry now. Always angry with me. Always angry with Derek. Angry that I like Derek._ "Ahhhhh!" Stiles screamed.

"Focus on the pain." Derek ordered.

"What are you doing! He's human, Derek. You can't…"

"Stiles, the pain. Focus on the pain!"

 _Pain. Owe, fuck that hurt_. "W-what the f-fuck Derek!" he snapped, breathlessly, eyes snapping to glare at the werewolf, "Ow, ow, ow." he hissed, watching as Derek pulled his hand away from Stiles leg, claws bloody. _Bloody, shit._ Stiles lifted his head, staring down at the blood staining his thigh. Another pair of pants hit the dust, great.

The sound of cracking plaster board had Stiles' head snapping around to find Scott with his fingers wrapped around Derek's throat.

 _Oh shit._ Stiles shoved himself up, wincing at the pain in his head, chest and leg. A significant pounding was starting behind his eyes. A damn migraine, great. Fuck he hated panic attacks.

"He's human!" Snarled Scott, "You can't do that to a human, especially not Stiles!"

"Woah, dude." Stiles yelled, pushing himself off the couch. He swayed a little and had to close his eyes for a second to get his bearings. "Scott, let him go."

"I told him not to trust you. I told him you were dangerous! You're no better than Peter!"

Stiles winced at the loud roar and stared at the two werewolves. He probably should be surprised that Derek wasn't ripping Scott to pieces, but he wasn't, because despite what Scott wanted to believe, Derek really _wasn't_ like Peter. Not even a little. "Scott, man, let him go. I'm fine."

"No!"

Rolling his eyes, Stiles glanced over to Isaac, who was stood awkwardly off to the side. He looked so torn and Stiles sympathized. It's hard being caught in the middle. Trapped between his loyalty to Derek as his alpha, and to Scott as his friend.

Sighing, Stiles hobbled over, hissing between his teeth. While he had enhanced healing, it wasn't nearly as quick to kick in as a werewolf's, especially deep wounds like the one Derek had given him. "Scott man, I'm fine. Let him go." he tugged on Scott's arm hard, yanking it away from the alpha.

Scott's head twisted to fix Stiles with an accusatory stare, as if Stiles stopping Scott from strangling Derek was somehow breaking the bro-code or something. Then his eyes dropped to where Stiles was still pulling on his arms, and his brows furrowed. A millisecond later, Scott's gaze shot up, locking with Stiles once more, his nose wrinkling as he sniffed the air, confused.

Stiles pulled his hand back, dropping it to his side and breaking the intense stare. "I'm…fine."

Scott narrowed his eyes, searching Stiles face, then he took an unsteady step back. "What…?" he looked between Stiles and Derek repeatedly for thirty seconds before finally settling on Derek. "What did you do to him?"

Derek sighed warily, straightening up from the wall and folding his arms. "I didn't _do_ anything to him. Stiles is exactly the same as he's always been."

Stiles inhaled a deep breath, shifting awkwardly, "Scott, I uh…"

Taking a step closer, Scott sniffed at the air again, narrowing his eyes. "What are you?"

Stiles opened his mouth to answer. To tell Scott everything he'd told Derek over a month ago, but the words just wouldn't come, they wrapped around his windpipe and refused to budge. His mouth closed with a loud click, and Stiles' shoulders slumped.

He hated the hurt look that blossomed on Scott's face, but he just couldn't bring himself to tell his friend, his ex-friend, what he was. If there was one thing Stiles had learnt over the last year, it was that Scott, when put under the right amount of pressure, couldn't be trusted.

"Fine." Scott whispered, voice breaking. He looked from Stiles to Isaac, to Derek. "Fine." he repeated, harder this time and marched angrily out of the house. Stiles closed his eyes, inhaling deeply against the pain in his chest.

"Isaac," Derek said gently, "You should go and rest, we'll talk later."

"Uh," Isaac stammered and Stiles could feel his gaze on him, "Okay."

With his eyes still closed, the sting of regretful tears behind his lids, Stiles listened to Isaac's footsteps on the hardwood floor and then the creak of the stairs at he headed for his room.

"Stiles?" Derek said quietly, hand on his shoulder.

Swallowing thickly, Stiles opened his eyes, "Yeah." he sighed, tiredly.

"I should drive you home." Derek announced, eyes flickering meaningfully to the stairs. Stiles nodded, "Thanks."

Derek led him out to the jeep and held out his hands for the keys. Stiles stared at the hand, brow raised, "Actually I can drive myself."

Derek stared at him unimpressed, "You just had a panic attack and your leg hasn't healed yet." he looked meaningfully down at the bloody thigh, "We either take the Camaro, and you walk back here tomorrow to pick up this rust bucket, or I drive."

"See now that's why you don't get to drive," Stiles pointed out indignantly, "Rosco is not a rust bucket."

Turning to stare at the jeep, Derek scoffed, as he dragged a clawed finger across a small patch of rust on the door.

"Shut up." Stiles grumbled, tossing the keys to Derek. If the jeep wasn't in the drive when his dad got home, he'd want to know where it was, and Stiles was in no mood for another argument concerning his friendship with Derek.

Shuffling around to the other side of the jeep, Stiles pulled himself into the unfamiliar passenger seat and shot Derek daggers when the alpha slammed Rosco's door a little too hard. "Hey."

It took three attempts to start the engine, each one occupied but a judgmental, smug look from Derek. "Don't give me that look, dude. She's just temperamental is all, kinda like you." that earned him another death glare, but then the engine was rumbling to life and Derek grumbled under his breath as he backed the jeep away from the house.

"You remember I said I've got enhanced hearing, right?" Stiles reminded the alpha before punching him hard in the arm.

They drove in a comfortable silence, Stiles staring thoughtfully out the window, for ten minutes before Rosco decides to provide Derek with more ammunition to disrespect her by breaking down. Derek turned his head, smirking before shoving open to door and climbing out.

"Seriously," Stiles grunted, tapping the dash, "are you trying to humiliate me? What did I ever do to you, huh? Other than love you."

"It's probably tired of your out of tune singing and this I'd its way of begging to be put out of its misery!" Derek called back while lifting the hood, startling him.

Stiles shoved open the door and limped around to glare at the alpha, "How dare you! Firstly, my singing is magical. I have a voice of an Angel."

Derek smirked, "If there's an angel in heaven singing like you, they should confiscate its harp and find it a new job."

"Rude. Like your singing is any better. Are you sure you're a were _wolf_ , because you sing like a drowning cat."

They stand there for a few second just staring before Derek mutters nonsensically and prompted, "And secondly?"

Stiles huffed a laugh, "secondly _Mutly_ , secondly..." He trailed off, confused as whatever he was going to say evaporates.

Derek grinned while watching Stiles scramble about in his brain for whatever he was going to say. "Yes?"

"And secondly... shut up."

Derek huffed a laugh, dropping his attention to the engine.

Stiles hobbled back to the front seat and returned with a wrench. "Here."

Taking the thing, Derek began to dig around in Rosco's innards, while Stiles leant on the other side watching him.

"I don't know why I'm surprised you know how to fix an engine," Stiles remarked, mostly to himself.

"I had a part time job at a garage in New York."

"To help pay for college?" Stiles quizzed.

Derek looked up throe his lashes, "Is there something you want to know?"

Stiles laughed, "This is me, Derek. I want to know _everything_. Like, did you go to college? What did you study? Where did you live? Did you have a girlfriend?"

Derek straightened, staring at the teenager, "We spent over a month together and _now_ you're asking about my past?"

Stiles shrugged, "It never really felt like the right time."

Taking a breath Derek went back to the engine. "Yes, History and pre-law, Queens, no."

"Pre-law?" Stiles gaped, "Sorry man, I just don't see you as a lawyer."

"Neither did I," Derek sighed, "But Laura made me promise to see it through. She had this fantasy of us opening our own law firm."

"Laura was a lawyer?"

Derek nodded, "Second year at Colombia when..."

"And history?" Stiles asked, changing the subject at the look of pain on Derek's face.

"I like history," Derek replied, "You can learn a lot from the dead."

Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line, hating that the good humor of a few moments ago was gone. Determine to get it back and keep Derek sharing, because sharing is caring, Stiles pressed on with more questions. He just had to avoid anything that would bring Derek's thoughts back to his dead family. "So, Queens? What was that like? Did everyone talk like Fran from the Nanny?"

Derek raised a brow, "The nanny?"

"Hey, you do not get to judge my taste in TV shows Mr. Grease-Two."

"It's the better movie,"

"So you said," Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. "So...?"

"I didn't really talk to many people."

"Shocker." Stiles laughed.

Derek flipped him the bird, "I was focused on my studies. My neighbor was Mrs. Dennison and her two daughters were from Texas, and the man in the coffee shop down the street sounded like he was from the Bronx. - Try the engine." He ordered.

Stiles limped around to the driver's side and climbed behind the wheel with a hiss. He twisted the key and Rosco splattered and coughed. Derek muttered again and vanished behind the raised hood.

Tapping his fingers on the wheel, Stiles watched what little of Derek he could see, which was pretty much just the swell of ass and legs. "So, you never dated?"

"What?"

Stiles poked his head out of the window, "You never dated?"

"I said I didn't have a girlfriend, not that I hadn't dated."

"You said you were focused on your studies." Stiles argued, "I took that to mean you didn't leave the house."

Derek peeked over the good, "I meant I didn't socialize with my neighbors." he clarified, "or go to keggers, but I had friends."

Stiles brows shot to his hairline, "Wow. I can honestly say my mind is blown." He gapped, "So you had friends and you dated, but you didn't have a long-term girlfriend? Out there playing the field, you horny werewolf you."

"Engine!"

This time Rosco started on the first try and Stiles wasn't sure if he felt relieved or regretful. "I'm driving, she clearly hates you."

Derek opened his mouth to argue and Stiles hurriedly added, "My leg is feeling better, and you can ride along to make sure I don't crash into a tree or something."

Reluctantly and with more Mutly mutters, Derek got into the passenger seat, and Stiles pulled away from the side of the road.

"Actually," Derek said suddenly a few seconds later, "I said I didn't have a girlfriend, not that I wasn't... going steady with anyone."

The jeep swerved as Stiles head snapped around to stare at Derek, eyes comically wide, "You're gay?" He all but shouted.

Derek smirked, not looking at him. "No."

"Bi?"

Derek shrugged, "I guess. Though I've only dated one guy in my life."

Stiles was struggling to keep his eye on the road. "Wow, bi. - So, who was he? Were you guys still together when you moved back here? Is this a long-distance thing? Does he know you're a werewolf? How did that go down?"

"You realize that if I answer all of those questions, I get to interrogate you in exchange?"

"You already know everything there is to know about me, man. My deepest darkest secret."

"Why did you have a panic attack when Isaac mentioned the tattoo?"

The jeep swerved again and Stiles inhaled sharply, head snapping around to fix Derek with a pleading gaze. He wasn't ready to answer that yet.

"His name was Nick Sorrentino, he was the cousin to my only friend in New York, Clay."

Stiles exhaled a long breath and focused on the road, relaxing in the seat. "Oh. - Are you guys still…?"

Derek shook his head, "We broke up years ago, it wasn't anything really serious."

Stiles glanced sideways at Derek, "Really? You don't sound so sure?"

It was Derek's turn to stiffen, "I… I apparently have trust issues."

Stiles scoffed, "Yeah, understandable. You know, with what happened."

Derek looked at him, confused.

"With Kate." Stiles clarified, and Derek flinched.

"How did you know?"

Stiles frowned, "Know?"

There was a tense moment where they just stared at each other, and then the jeep was rolling off the side of the road, crashing into a tree.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles came around with a pounding headache and blood in his eyes. He lifted his hand and swiped it away, clearing his vision to take in his surroundings. Turning his head, he saw Derek, head hanging forward, limp with his eyes closed and dried blood at his temple. Whatever wound had been there was already healed.

Wincing Stiles reached out his hand, and gave the alpha a shove, "Derek? Derek, wake up."

It took a few seconds but finally the werewolves eyes opened, flashing red for a second before turning to focus on Stiles. "What happened?"

Stiles shook his head, "Not a clue, but I'm trapped."

Derek clambered out of the jeep and hurried around to Stiles side, ripping the door open, "Are you alright to move?" he asked before reaching in. When Stiles gave him a nod, he slid one arm under Stiles legs and the other behind his back, lifting him free. He carried him a few feet away and then looked over at the jeep. "Rosco's had it."

Stiles stared sadly at the dented, crumpled exterior of his beloved car. "Fuck." he whispered, voice breaking.

"I'm sorry."

Stiles sniffed, shaking his head. "Grab my…cell."

Derek patted down the pockets of Stiles jeans, "Are you alright?" he asked while searching.

"I think I've broken my arm, and a couple of ribs."

"But your healing?" Derek said, pulling the cellphone from Stiles pocket.

"I have enhanced heal, not superhuman healing. It still takes time." he sucked in a pained breath, "Call my dad, his direct line, not the station."

"I think you should do it." Derek insisted, holding out the cell.

Nodding, Stiles shakily took the cell and thumbed through the contacts single handed, panting, "I might have punctured a lung,"

Derek snatched the cell from his hand and pressed it to his ear, listening to it ring out.

 _"Yes Stiles."_ The Sheriff said warily.

"Uh, Sheriff, its Derek Hale."

 _"Hale?"_ The Sheriff's voice suddenly sounded tight and panicked, _"What are you doing with my son's phone?"_ he demanded accusingly, and Derek looked down at Stiles murderously. Stiles simply smirked.

"Stiles is here with me." Derek reassured quickly.

"H-hey dad!" Stiles called weakly.

"There's been an accident. The jeep is currently wrapped around a tree, five miles out of town."

 _"Is Stiles alright?"_ The Sheriff demanded. There was the muffled sound of voices, and Derek could distinctly hear the slam of doors.

"He's got a broken arm, possibly a few broken ribs and a suspected punctured lung."

 _"Have you called an ambulance?"_

"Stiles insisted I call you directly."

There was a long moment before the man sighed, _"Is he conscious? Can I talk to him?"_

Derek lowered the phone to the teenager's ear. "Hey pops." Stiles greeted weakly.

 _"I'm on my way, Stiles."_

"Okay, dad. That's go…" Stiles trailed off, losing consciousness.

"He's passed out, sir, but he's still breathing."

"The ambulance is on its way, it should be with you in a few minutes. I'm hanging up now. - Oh, and Hale, I'm trusting you to stay with him."

"Of course, sir." Derek replied instantly, staring down at the teenager in his lap.

The line went dead, and Derek tossed the cell on the grass beside him, pressing his hand against Stiles blood covered head and absorbing the pain. He watched at the black lines snaked their way through his forearms. In the shadows of the large trees, Derek listened intently for the sound of sirens. When Stiles stirred against his lap, Derek swept his fingers through his hair comfortingly. "Your dad and the ambulance are on their way. Not long now. How are you feeling?"

"Like I hit a tree, but it's getting better." Stiles struggled to say.

"I don't think your dad is too happy I'm with you." Derek remarked. He'd heard the hint of suspicion in the older man's voice.

"He's just pissed because he doesn't want me hanging out with a 'person of interest'."

Derek sighed, "I thought we cleared all that up."

"Y-you did," Stiles huffed, wheezing, "but then two teenagers disappeared, and you were the last person they were seen with, putting you back at the top of dad's person of interest list." Stiles sucked in a breath, gasping as he exhaled, "He w-wasn't h-happy that I was h-helping y-you over the summer."

"You said…"

"I said he knew, I d-didn't s-say he approved." Stiles smirked, attempting to chuckle.

Derek groaned, shaking his head. "Great."

"D-don't worry, I c-convinced him that my h-helping you gave m-me the prefect c-cover to sniff around. F-find out w-what you knew about Erica and B-Boyd." he gave another heaving cough and gasped for air.

Derek rolled his eyes, amused. "Of course, you did." he gave his head a subtle shake. He pressed his hand back to Stiles head, drawing the pain away once more.

"W-we need to think of a-a cover s-story." Stiles said after a few minutes.

"What?" Derek frowned, too focused on helping the teenager.

"You h-haven't got a s-scratch." Stiles panted, "Dad will w-want to k-know how y-you found me."

"I'll tell him I was out for a run and came across the accident." Derek reassured matter-of-factly.

"R-running?" Stiles huffed, "In boots?"

Derek raised a brow and shrugged. "I think your dad will have more important things on his mind than what I'm wearing on my feet."

"I wouldn't b-be so sure, man. Dad's pretty observant."

"Fine, I'll tell him I was taking a walk." Derek sighed, warily. "I'm the town hermit, I do weird thinks like take long walks in the woods and drag annoying teenagers from car accidents."

Stiles huffed a laugh that swiftly became a chorus of violent wet coughs.

"Now shut up." Derek ordered.

There was a long silence, but Stiles being Stiles was completely opposed to silence. "A-any idea w-what hit us?"

Derek sighed, rolling his eyes. He shook his head, "I didn't see,"

"M-me neither."

Lifting his nose, Derek sniffed the air. "Deer." he said after a few seconds, "Dead a few feet away."

"Deer?" Stiles frowned, twisting his head to look back towards the road. "Another one." he hummed.

"Another one?"

Looking back up at Derek, he panted, nodding. "A deer went through a couple's car window Friday night." Stiles breathing eased slightly, but Derek could still hear the wetness in his voice. "And Lydia's dog bit her…"

"Dogs bite, Stiles."

The teenager shook his head, "Not Prada. According to Lydia it's never so much as taken a swipe at her before." he paused, breathing heavily, eyes closed.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, worriedly. "You need to shut up."

"T-then there was the c-crows."

"What crows?" Derek asked.

"The c-crows that k-killed themselves in m-my class r-room t-today." Stiles gulped in fresh breath and then coughed up blood.

"Okay Stiles," Derek said sharply, "Now you really have to just shut up," he wiped the blood from Stiles mouth, clamping his palm down over it when Stiles opened it to argue. "No. We'll talk about this later, when you haven't got a punctured lung."

As if in answer to Derek's prayers, the distant sound of sirens filled the air and he breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

 **A/N: You thought I was going to have Derek's kiss him during the panic attack, didn't you? Sorry guys, too soon for the smooches. Congratulations if you spotted Nick Sorrentino and Clay are from the series Bitten. I did debate whether to use them, but frankly I've had this head-canon about Derek and Clay being friends in New York since I first watched Bitten a few months ago. So, this is a kind of mini crossover, but don't get your hopes up for a full-blown crossover. I don't plan on bringing Nick or Clay into the fic. (I don't think)**

 **Feedback would be appreciated, thank you.**


	5. Two

**A/N: Warning, this chapter contains mention of Derek's past relationship with Kate, and the long-term effects on his psyche.**

* * *

 **TWO**

The first body appeared a week after the accident. Stiles was sat in the front seat of his dad's patrol car because his jeep was totaled, and he doesn't have any friends to car pool with. Well there was Derek, but his dad was back to being suspicious of him again, seeing as he'd miraculously been in the area when Stiles' jeep was rammed off the side of the road by a damn deer.

There hadn't been any more freak animal suicides and Stiles had allowed himself to believe it was just that, a freak incident. That was of course, until they'd arrived at the school grounds to find a body in the lacrosse field, tied to the goal, a pool of blood staining the grass.

It wasn't Stiles first dead body, even before he'd started hanging out with werewolves, but it was the first time he'd known the victim personally.

Heather had been the first friend he'd made back in nursery school. They'd been inseparable throughout kindergarten, but then middle school had hit, and they'd met knew people, made knew friends. They'd stayed in touch. The occasional facebook message. Bumping into each other at the mall and then going for pizza to catch up. The last he'd heard from her was an email three days ago inviting him to her 16th birthday party. Obviously, he'd declined the offer, who wanted to turn up at a party alone? Now Stiles suddenly wished more than anything that he'd gone.

"Stiles? - Stiles!"

He turned to find his dad staring at him, "Go to class."

"Heather."

"I know," His dad said sympathetically, squeezing his shoulder, "I'm sorry. You should head to class."

"I can't just leave."

"Yes, you can." His dad insisted, gently pushing him away. "Coach, get these kids out of here!"

"You heard the man you vultures, leave!" Coach Finstock yelled, waving his arms to shoo them away.

Stiles staggered away, eyes still fixed on the body.

"Stiles?"

He turned his head sharply to find Lydia and Jackson staring at him. Lydia looked pale as death and her eyes were rimmed with red. Jackson's arm was resting around her shoulders, comfortingly. "Lydia?"

"What's going on?"

Stiles frowned, looking back over his shoulder, "I'd think that's pretty obvious." he muttered, voice cracking. He looked back to find both Lydia and Jackson glaring at him like he was a simpleton.

"She means, what's doing this, dumbass?" Jackson clarified with a glare.

"What do you mean? How should I know?"

"Because you always know, Stiles?" Lydia pleaded, "I found her."

His eyes widened, "What?"

"She just…wandered off this morning the moment we pulled up." Jackson informed him quietly, "I followed her here."

"This is the second one in two days Stiles." Lydia yelled frantically, causing a group of fellow students to turn and stare.

"Second?"

"She found a guy at the pool over the weekend."

"The school pool?" Stiles frowned, looking between the pair. "What were you guys doing here on a Saturday?" he smirked, "Don't tell me you got detention for…."

"We _weren't_ ," Jackson sighed, growing frustrated with him. He looked at Lydia with an odd mix of sadness and… was that fear? "She got up in the middle of the night and just…"

"Walked here." Lydia finished weakly.

"In her underwear," Jackson muttered, swallowing thickly.

Once upon a time, the thought of Lydia Martin walking around in her underwear would have given him a humiliating bodily reaction that would have instantly resulted in Jackson Whitmore slamming his fist into his face. Right now, though, Stiles was too freaked out to lust after his life-long crush. "Oh."

"So?" Lydia pleaded, chest heaving.

"Hey, Balinski, Whitmore, get to class. You too red." Couch Finstock yelled, waving his hand insistently at them to keep walking.

With a sigh they all turned to head back to the school building, "The last time you wandered around like that was…" Stiles whispered, chest heaving with adrenaline.

"I know," Lydia whispered, "Derek's uncle."

"Peter." Stiles nodded, looking to Jackson, whose eyes flared blue for a second. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Lydia, pausing her by the doors, "I'll find out what's going on. I promise."

Lydia gave him a shaky smile and pulled open the school door, slipping inside.

By the time they reached the lockers the bell was ringing, Stiles hurried along, switching out his bag for books and slamming the door closed, only to find himself face to face with Scott.

He hadn't spoken to his ex-best friend since he'd stormed out of Derek's house on the day of the accident. He hadn't even come by to see how he was. Though according to his dad, he had asked after him, but that wasn't exactly the same thing.

Scott's absence from his life had led to Stiles having to tell his dad about their fight and how they hadn't quiet made up yet. He'd made it sound a lot better than it actually was and had been sure _not_ to bring up that Derek was the main cause of their friction, or that Scott had his suspicions about Stiles true nature. He didn't want his dad knowing anyone knew the truth until it was necessary.

Scott stared at him in silence, crooked jaw clenched tight, then he huffed out an angry breath and muttered, "I'm glad your alright." then he was marching away.

Stiles watched him go with a heavy weight in his chest, then moved to follow, discovering that in his absence, Scott had switched seats with Mark and was now sat near the back of class with Isaac.

_(*-*)_/

Slipping out of school at lunch, Stiles made a beeline for the hospital. Usually he'd ask his dad, but obviously the sheriff wasn't up to sharing information, having not told him about the other body Lydia had found.

Bursting through the double doors, he was grateful to find Melissa instantly. "Hey."

She turned to regard him, lips pulling in a smile, "Hey. How are you feeling? Do you have an appointment?"

Stiles shook his head, "No, this is a more…private matter." he whispered, "The supernatural kind."

Melissa's face fell instantly, "What's going on?"

"I need to see the bodies, the ones found at the school."

Melissa shook her head, "No way."

"It's important. It's a matter of life and death, literally. Please."

Taking a deep breath, she looked around and bit her lip. "Is Scott in danger?" she asked quietly.

"I…" he sighed, "I think this might have something to do with Erica and Boyd going missing, and if I'm right, then…it's possible they all are."

They were silent for a moment, as Stiles' meaning sank in and then Melissa grabbed his arm and led him away from the front desk, "You tell anyone I showed you this, I swear to God, I will kill you painfully and slowly."

She led him down to the basement, and the morgue. Stiles held his breath as he stepped inside. It was empty thank god, the medical examiner apparently having gone to lunch. "Shouldn't there be someone here?" Stiles observed, "You know, making sure they don't just up and walk away. This is Beacon Hills, that happens." Jackson was proof.

Melissa ignored him, checking the charts and yanking open the doors. "You're lucky, the body from Sunday night hasn't been released yet." the drawer pulled free smoothly, revealing a covered body. She threw back the cover and Stiles flinched, turning his head away from the pale male form.

"God." he muttered, pressing his sleeve to his nose.

"You asked to see them." Melissa huffed, "What are you looking for?"

Stiles shook his head, leaning in close. "I don't know yet. Do they know what killed him?"

Melissa looked down at the chart, "His throat was slashed."

"Werewolf?" he asked quietly, leaning forward, frowned deepening, "What's this?" he pointed to a red mark beneath the man's jaw.

Melissa glanced over, "Report said he was strangled with a cord, or rope."

Looking up through his lashes, he met Melissa's eyes, "What kind of werewolf strangles someone."

She shrugged, "I'm new to all this."

Stiles shook his head, "They don't."

"I'm going to guess they don't need to hit them in the back of the head either?"

Stiles tilted his head, looking at the back of the guys skull, wincing and turning a little green at the hole, and the brain beyond. "So, what killed him?"

Melissa looked back down at the file, "Inconclusive. Any one of these things could have killed him." she said, meeting Stiles gaze over the body, "Someone seriously wanted this poor kid dead."

Stiles nodded, swallowing hard and straightening. "I need you to look at the latest victim. Heather George. See if she has the same wounds."

Melissa stared at him, "Stiles?"

He shook his head, "I can't… I can't look."

"You knew her?" Melissa gasped. At Stiles' nod, she hurried over to the examination table and pulled back the sheet.

Stiles turned his back away, staring at the wall with tears in his eyes. He listened to the rustle of sheets and bit into his lip, memories of a long-gone childhood flooding back. Heather's laugh. His mother's smile. Back when life was normal, before the fear took hold. Before his mom died and left him with only himself for protection. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and tears began to roll down his cheek and Stiles swiped at his face with his sleeve, burring his eyes in the crook of his elbow for a second.

"Stiles, honey?" Melissa said softly from just behind him. Cautiously he turned, making sure not to look over at the table. She nodded, "I'm sorry."

Stiles filled his lungs and flexed his fingers, "I…okay," he choked, "Thanks Melissa. Not a word to dad, okay."

She gave him a sad smile and inclined her head. He didn't wait for her to show him out, turning on his heels he sprinted out of the double doors, and towards the elevator.

Stiles mind was on fire, working overtime to try and juggle all the information. The slice to the throat could be down to a werewolf. Cora maybe, but why would she strangle and crack skulls? Over kill wasn't very werewolfy, was it?

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Stiles fished out his cell, scrolling through the contacts, hitting call he lifted it to his ear.

After two rings, a familiar smooth voice grunted, "Stiles?"

"I need you to pick me up. We have a problem."

_(*-*)_/

Derek pulled the Camaro up outside the hospital and watched as Stiles clambered inside. "What's happened?"

"I'll tell you on the way."

"Way to where?" Derek frowned, already pulling out of the parking lot.

"The school." Stiles said distractedly, eyes fixed on the road ahead as his head twisted and turned, making connections.

"Stiles what's happening?" Derek growled frustrated.

With a sharp intake of breath, Stiles head snapped around to fix Derek with a hard look. "I... I can't be sure, I need to do some research but…" he swallowed, grinding his teeth for a moment, "I think something bad is here."

Derek frowned, "What do you mean, bad?"

"Supernatural bad. Two dead teenagers ritually murdered bad."

"What?" Derek's head snapped around, "Are you sure."

"Have I ever been wrong?" Derek lifted a brow and Stiles sighed, "Apart from that one time."

There was a tense silence, the only sound that of their heavy breathing. When Derek spoke again his voice was rough, "Cora?"

Stiles shrugged, "I don't know. Is there a reason a werewolf would strangle and smash a victims' skull before slicing its throat?"

Derek looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, "No."

"I didn't think so. - So, if your sister is involved, she'd not working alone."

Derek's fingers tightened on the wheel. "What about the woman?" he asked, "The one that saved Isaac. Do you think she could be involved?"

Stiles leant of the window ledge, his fingers carding through his hair. "I…" he licked at his lips, heart racing at the reminder of the woman.

Stiles had tried his hardest to forget about her the past week, not wanting to cause another panic attack. But he knew Derek was curious, and while he hadn't pressured Stiles for answers the night of the accident, he'd always known it was just a matter of time before he was forced to reveal just who she was.

Taking a breath, Stiles tapped his foot against the black carpet of the car and replied, "I can't imagine what Manticore would want with ritual sacrifice." he stated matter-of-factly. The name just rolling off his tongue.

Derek kept his eyes on the road ahead, "Manticore. You're sure?"

Stiles nodded, "Yeah. The tattoo Isaac described? My mom had the same one. All X5s had them according to my mom. She said that was how I'd know them, when they came." He looked side long at Derek to find the alpha not-so-subtle looking at the back of Stiles neck, and he rolled his eyes, "I don't have one. Seriously Derek? Do you think I'd have sported a buzz cut for years if I had a top-secret tattoo on the back of my neck?"

The man flushed slightly, "You could have been using make-up to cover it up." he justified.

Stiles huffed a laugh. "Touché. - But no, the tattoo isn't genetic apparently."

The Camaro took the final corner that led to the school, "If this mysterious woman has nothing to do with whatever you think is happened, then why safe Isaac?"

Stiles shook his head, "I don't know. Right now, though, I want to take a look at the crime scene. - Can you pick me up after school?" Stiles said as the car came to a stop outside the school, and he shoved open the door. "I'm pretty sure dad's gonna have his hands full, and it'll be easier to sneak back when the teachers go home and look at the school records."

Derek stared at him, "Are you suggesting I help you break into the school?"

Stiles grinned, "It wouldn't be the first time," he gave him a wink and slammed the door.

Derek watched him take the steps two at a time, and shook his head, unable to keep his lips from curving up into a wide smile.

_(*-*)_/

When the final bell rang, Stiles didn't bother waiting around. There was no need to anymore, Scott had left with Isaac without so much as a look his way, but you know, whatever.

After grabbing his books and bag from his locker, Stiles burst through the double door and grinned to see Derek stood a few feet away, leaning back against the Camaro, arms folded waiting for him. He wasn't surprised, Stiles had been fairly confident Derek wasn't going to let him down. If only because the alpha was concerned about just what his sister was involved with, but rather because it gave him a small buzz to be met from school by the town bad boy. Not that Derek was all that bad, not even close in Stiles' good opinion.

As he jogged down the steps and over to Derek with a wide grin, he could hear the whispers of his fellow students, and going by the way Derek's brow was curved with amusement, he heard it too. Apparently, there was a common consensus that Stiles was hitting above his weight and was a walking cliché. At least according to his teammate Webber, who's muttered, _"Sheriff's son dating tall dark and psycho, no imagination."_ had actually made Stiles laugh outright.

Stiles considered slapping Derek with a kiss, just to give their audience an eyeful, but didn't really want to have to break out his ass-kicking skills in self-defense when Derek tried to rip his throat out. Instead he just fidgeted with the strap of his bag and smiled, "Hey."

"Hey," Derek's gaze flickered over his shoulder as he asked, "So, what now?"

Stiles shrugged, "Figured we'd go for a burger, give the school a chance to clear out and then come back."

Derek flickered his green eyes to meet Stiles and gave a nod, turning his body to open the car door. Stiles almost jumped out of his skin when Derek's hand landed on the hollow of his back, guiding him to the seat. He swallowed around his heart, which had decided to relocate into his throat. He had one foot into the car when Derek startled a loud yelp out of him.

Stiles' head snapped around with a scandalized gaze, only to find Derek was gone. Lowering himself into the seat, he slammed the door closed and turned to glare at the alpha. "Did you just slap my ass?"

Derek looked at him shamefully, "Uh, yeah. - Sorry."

"Why did you slap my ass, Derek?"

He started the engine and pulled away from the curb, "I said sorry. - I…" he shook his head, "I don't know why I did that."

Stiles stared at him, face flushed and heart racing. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, only for Derek to cut over him.

"I just heard one of the girls saying I had to be your cousin, because there was no way you'd get a guy like me, and…" he shrugged, fingers flexing on the wheel, "I wanted to make it clear that I wasn't your cousin. - That you could get someone like me, if you wanted."

Stiles gaped. His mouth hung open and he stared at the side of Derek's face. Time stopped, the oxygen in the car had been sucked into a black hole created by those words. Stiles heart wasn't even beating, he couldn't feel it.

What did that even mean? Was that Derek's subtle way of telling him he was interested, or was he just being, you know, supportive or whatever? Why did he even care what people thought of Stiles complete lack of sex appeal?

Derek shifted in his seat, glancing at Stiles out of the corner of his eye, "I'm sorry okay." he repeated, growing both flustered and concerned, "It was a misjudgment. It won't happen again."

"No." Stiles said quickly, then sucked in a deep breath when he realized he hadn't taken one in over a minute, "No, it's fine. Thanks, I…I guess." with another lick of his lips, he sat back, turning his gaze to the road.

They drove in utter silence to the diner, a strained tension settling between them that hadn't been there since the incident with the back of his father's patrol car a year ago. Stiles gritted his teeth and told himself to chill out.

When Derek pulled into a space in the parking lot, Stiles leapt out and hurried towards the door, only noticing when he had his hand on the handle that he was alone. Turning back, he saw Derek across the lot, sat behind the wheel, scowling. Sighing to himself, Stiles rolled his eyes, "Are you coming in or what?" he asked, knowing Derek would hear him, despite the distance and the car windows.

He straightened to listen for an answer but didn't get one. Instead, Derek lingered in the seat. Hungry and not in the mood to argue, for once, because food trumped words, Stiles stepped inside and made himself at ease in the line.

Derek was still brooding in his car when Stiles collected his order and made his way over to a booth in the corner. Sliding the tray onto the table he made himself comfortable on the seat, before pulling his cell out and opening up Derek's message thread.

 **Foods getting cold.**

He hit send and counted to ten before typing out a follow up.

 **Derek, stop moping and get in here.**

 **Please.**

Stiles waited, foot tapping against the black tiled floor, his toe catching on the base of the opposite bench with each downward motion. He was just about to give up hope, and strike Derek off his friends list when the alpha slid into the booth, knocking Stiles foot out of the way.

Derek looked like hell and Stiles frowned, concerned. He leant forward to whisper, "Dude, are you okay?"

Derek refused to meet his gaze, eyes focused on the table. His back was straight, and his hands were buried in the pockets of his leather jacket. Stiles chest tightened at the sudden distance between them after months of closeness.

"Derek? - Look, if your freaking out about what happened at the school...?"

"I shouldn't have done that." Derek muttered, "You're a kid."

Stiles huffed indignant, slumping back against the red leather, "Jeez, thanks." He glowered across the booth at the alpha.

Derek looked up at him with troubled eyes, "It's a fact. You're not even 17 yet." lips a thin line as he shook his head, "I shouldn't have..."

"Dude, take a breath." Stiles said, leaning forward again, "It's not a big deal. You've done worse to me than give my ass a pat." That was the wrong thing to say apparently because Derek looked horrified and seconds away from barfing.

"Okay, we're taking this food to go." He got to his feet and gathered his burgers, curly fries and soda, looking pointedly at Derek's own serving when he didn't move, "And we're going to go somewhere and you're going to tell me what the hell is going on."

Derek looked at him reluctantly for along few seconds before giving a sharp nod and grabbing the food.

They didn't discuss where they were going to go, they simply got back in the Camaro and started driving. Stiles figured Derek would take him back to the house, but instead if making the turning, Derek kept on driving. Further and further away from town. Stiles thought he should be worried, and at one time he would have been, but he'd spent two months with Derek. Day after day. Hour after hour. And while he still knew so little about the man, considering how much Derek knew about him, he somehow knew he could trust him.

That trust was repaid when Derek finally broke the tense silence. "Kate," he whispered, voice quiet and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Stiles didn't look at him, not wanting to spook him, "Hmmm?"

Derek was quiet for a couple more seconds before saying, "I was sixteen when I first met her."

Stiles couldn't keep his head from twisting around, even if he tried. He stared at Derek's profile, eyes wide with surprise, "You knew Kate, before she…"

Derek took a deep breath, the muscle in his jaw working beneath his beard, "I… I'm the r-reason they died."

Stiles frowned, "What?"

The Camaro swerved violently to the side of the road, tires screeching and dirt flying. Stiles reached out with his cast covered arm to brace himself against the unexpected movement. The second the car stopped, Derek flung open the door and got out. Stiles twisted to watch him through the back window as he paced behind the car, before climbing out.

"I was 16 when she approached me," Derek said breathlessly, moving back and forth, like a cornered animal, "16! Hormones and desires. I was so arrogant back then; couldn't see the threat she truly was. I knew she was an Argent. I knew she was a hunter, but I didn't care. She was beautiful, and she wanted me. She knew what I was. There were no secrets between us, not like…" Derek squeezed his eyes closed, taking in a painfully deep breath, "No secrets." he said again, soft and wrecked, "I told her everything. About me, about the pack. I revealed all our weaknesses, and how to get around our strengths. I gave her everything she needed to know to kill my family, and all for sex. All because she allowed me to have sex with her. 16, Stiles." he said finally, "I was 16 and she…"

Stiles stared at him, everything falling into place. He's suspected that Kate had inside information, but in all honesty, he'd thought it had come from Peter. "Derek, I…" he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, stretching out the left side with his cast. "You're not Kate." he said finally, gaze fixed insistently on the alpha. "What you did, it's not the same thing."

"Isn't it?"

"Not even close, Derek." he took a step closer, tilting his head to capture Derek's gaze, "Slapping my ass, it was a joke, man, I know it was a joke. I wasn't mad, and I didn't feel attack, just surprised you did it." he scoffed, shrugging, "You're always so uptight and distant. And just so we're being all honest and shit, I was considering kissing you in front of everyone for the same reason, and the only reason I didn't was because I didn't want to have to kick your ass when you tried to rip my throat out for it. - As fun as it would be to see the whole damn school know I'm a badass. - You don't have to freak out. You are not Kate Argent by any stretch of the imagination. We're buddies, okay. Right?"

He waited for Derek to nod and then grinned, "Buddies touch each other. Buddies slap each other's asses, have you seen soccer and football players, they're always grabbing a handful, man. It's no big deal. I swear." He watched Derek fight to regain his composure, "I… Derek, I think you might want to talk to someone though, about…all of it."

"I am." Derek said, looking at him meaningfully.

"I meant a professional dude. You know me, I'm likely to step into a minefield and make everything a thousand times worse."

Derek shook his head, "You've done pretty well so far." he said softly, looking into Stiles eyes with a warm grateful smile.

Stiles cleared his throat and shifted on his feet, "Uh, yeah, uh, thanks." he chewed on his lower lip for a second, "Also, maybe you know, get out there. Date someone." Stiles ignored the way his gut clenched at the idea.

"I don't know if I'm ready to date, not…"

"You still hung up on Nick?" Stiles asked, lightly.

Derek looked at him, brows pulling together. "No." he shook his head, "It wasn't that serious."

"Oh." Stiles sighed, relieved, "I mean, that's good, it means you can you know, move on. Get out there. Meet someone new."

Derek looked as if Stiles had just told him to suck on a lemon.

"Look, man, I'm not saying forget and get over it, because dude, that shit isn't the get over kind of stuff, you know. - But you need to take back control, Derek. She's dead. She's burning in hell for what she did to you, and your family, don't let her drag you down with her."

Derek swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. "You're wise beyond your years, Stiles." he muttered gratefully.

Stiles flushed, shrugging. "I had to grow up quick, I guess."

Derek nodded, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, "I'm sorry about that."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Derek yanked his hand back as if burnt, and Stiles pretended not to notice the tortured look that crossed the alphas face.

Clearing his throat, Stiles pulled out his cell, checking the time. "The school should be empty by the time we get back. Ready for a little B&E?"

With another sour look, Derek huffed, "I don't know why you need me?"

"Look out." Stiles confirmed, heading back to the front of the car.

"You have everything I have Stiles, you don't need me."

Stiles stopped, looking over the roof at Derek, "Dude, bros don't let bros commit felonies alone. Especially when that bro is the sheriff's kid."

"Is this what you used to make Scott do?"

Stiles sighed sadly, leaning his broken arm on the roof, "The only time Scott did anything remotely questionable with me, he ended up a werewolf."

"Uh." Derek murmured, then pulled open the car door, "Let's go then. - But don't expect me to hang around if the police show up." he smirked.

"Not cool bro, not cool."

* * *

 **A/N: If there is anything you feel I should tag, please let me know, because I might miss something. Thank you. As always, feedback is good.**


	6. Pollo Loco

**Pollo Loco**

Stiles and Derek made their way through the halls of Beacon Hills, constantly listening out for those remaining in the building. Stiles prediction of an empty school had been slightly wrong, and they'd pulled outside the school to find two cars still parked. A blue Toyota, that Stiles knew belonged to Mr. Harris, and a red Beetle that he'd come to discover belonged to the new English teacher.

After a few minutes of debate about coming back later, Stiles convinced the alpha that the only person they needed to worry about was the principle and he was gone, taking off for the school before Derek could argue.

They cautiously listened out for any sign of Miss Blake and Harris heading their way, and slipped into the empty principles office, closing the door quietly behind them.

"What are you looking for?" Derek whispered while Stiles made himself comfortable behind the desk, booting up the computer and lifting the name plate from the front of a desk. He smirked over to Derek, waving the underside, "You'd think he'd know better, huh?"

Derek lifted a brow at him, impatiently.

Stiles rolled his eyes and set about logging into the computer, "Danny told me that all the school district computers are connected."

"And?"

"Heather went to St Giles across town, but Thomas was here. I want to see if there's a connection between them."

Derek nodded, looking back at the door while Stiles typed, "Since when were you a computer whiz?" he asked over his shoulder.

Stiles chewed his lip while his fingers flew across the keys, "After what happened with Peter, I decided to branch out, just in case. Danny showed me a few things," he looked up, tapping a finger to the side of his head, "I'm a quick study."

Derek scoffed, strolling over to hover behind Stiles, "Danny huh?"

"Yeah," Stiles muttered distractedly.

Perching on the edge of the principle's desk, Derek stared out over the lacrosse field, the yellow police tape flapping around in the wind. "How are things with Lydia?" he asked and heard the uptick of Stiles heart. He glanced over to find Stiles staring at him, flushed. He licked his lips and turned back to the window, pressing them together.

"Lydia's fine." Stiles finally replied, "Freaked out about finding two dead bodies…"

"Lydia found them?" he asked turning to look at the teenager again, brows furrowed, "Both?"

Stiles shrugged, "Yeah. She just wondered off. - Huh," he grinned, leaning closer to the computer screen. He hummed to himself while Derek watched him, then his eyes widened, and he shook his head, "God no."

"What?" Derek shot off the desk and turned, leaning over Stiles shoulder.

"They were both virgins." Stiles sighed.

"What?"

Stiles poked his finger almost angrily at the screen where Heather Davison's extracurricular activities states she was a member of a purity group, then clicked over to Thomas Kendal's file where he was showing to be the president of his bible group.

"That doesn't prove they were virgins." Derek said reasonably.

"No," Stiles sighed, "It doesn't prove it, but…"

"It could be a religious thing," Derek cut through.

Stiles exhaled a long breath and slumped against the chair. "I guess we'll just have to wait for the next body to show up."

"Next body?"

Stiles looked up at him with tired eyes, "Come on, Derek. This kind of stuff always happens in threes," he exhaled, "first its three virgins, and then, I don't know, three people with little dogs, oh god, Lydia!" Stiles said loudly, eyes widening. "She'd got to get rid of the dog…."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Keep your voice down!" Derek ordered, grabbing the collar of Stiles shirt and yanking him off the chair, "Let's go before someone hears your loud mouth and comes looking."

"But Lydia?"

Derek sighed, "Let's _go_ , Stiles."

Stiles glowered at him, eyes burning into the alpha, before turning back to log out of the Principle's computer. "You really _aren't_ the town bad boy, are you?" he huffed, glancing up with an amused smirk slowly creeping across his face.

"I never said I was." Derek sighed, heading for the door.

"What were you like in High School, Derek?" Stiles asked, switching off the computer and placing the name plate back at the front of the desk. "Come on? Where you the school nerd?" he smirked, "Oh god, were you? Let me guess, President of the chess club? Debate team?" he chuckled, "No, science club,"

His laugh was cut off by Derek's hand. The alpha dragging him back behind the door just as the door opened.

Stiles held his breath, the feel of Derek's calloused fingers against his lips, the alpha's strong arm around his chest, and his breath playing at the short hairs behind Stiles ear. They couldn't see who was on the other side of the door, but a few seconds later the door closed, and Derek's hand fell away from Stiles lips. He exhaled a relieved breath and let his head fall back against Derek's chest. "That was close." he whispered.

"Yeah." Derek sighed, causing goosebumps to burst to life across Stiles body.

Stiles pulled out of Derek's hold and licked at his lips, "We should get out of here. We need to talk to Peter."

Derek frowned, "What? Why?"

"Because the last time Lydia was wondering around with no idea how she got there, was when Peter was doing his resurrection mojo."

Derek stiffened, "You think Peter's behind this?"

"It's Peter." Stiles shrugged.

There was a long pause before Derek finally growled out, "Okay." before pulling open the office door and peering out into the hall.

_(*-*)_/

They pulled into the drive way of the large white house that backed onto a small patch of parkland that had likely been part of the preserve once upon a time. Stiles climbed out of the car and turned his head to stare across the stretch of green. On the far side, just about visible from where he stood, was the row of houses that made up Madoc Street, and if he squinted, he could see Lydia's bedroom window, a shadow moving in front of it.

Turning around he glared at the white house, watching as Derek made his way to the door, knocking hard. Stiles closed the car door and went to join him. After a few moments the door swung open and Peter smiled, looking between them, "And what do I owe this honor?" he asked smoothly.

"We need to talk." Derek said flatly, taking a step and shoving his way into the house.

Peter stepped back and waved an arm, "Oh yes, please do come in nephew." the smile and charming manner was belied by the flash of blue eyes and the slight growl to his tone. He turned to Stiles. "Will you be joining us?"

Stiles huffed, stepping into the house and glaring at the man.

They didn't move any deeper, Derek turning to fix his uncle with a hard-accusing stare. After pushing the door closed, Peter turned, "Well?"

"What do you know about the bodies found at the school?" Derek demanded, eyes flashing in a show of dominance.

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, marching past Derek and into the large white living room, lowering himself down on the expensive looking couch. He lounged back against the cushions, arms stretched across the back. Derek and Stiles stood in front of him, waiting impatiently.

"I don't know anything about two bodies found at the high school." He replied finally with a dramatic sigh and a flick of his hand.

"We didn't say there were two?" Stiles picked up, narrowing his gaze at the resurrected werewolf.

Peter's head tilted to the side slightly and exhaled, "I saw the news. I do own a television," he nodded behind Derek, and Stiles turned to regard the large flat screen TV bracketed to the wall above the fireplace. "But I have no personal knowledge of these teenagers, _or_ what killed them."

"What, not who?" Stiles asked, brow raised suspiciously.

"If it were a _who_ ," Peter said slowly, leaning forward on his knees, "you two wouldn't be here."

Stiles gritted his teeth against the truth of that statement. "What about Lydia?"

Peter stiffened, fixing Stiles with what looked to be a worried stare, "What about her? Is she alright?"

Stiles couldn't hold back the dismissed laugh, "As if you care."

Peter pressed his lips into a fine line, and swallowed, sitting back once more, "Of course I don't care." he muttered, and Stiles frowned at the strained tone.

"She's been wandering off," Derek said, seemingly oblivious to the weirdness in his uncle's tone, "Kind of the same way she was wandering around when she was under your control."

Peter stared at Derek for a long moment, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills, which filled the room with an almost claustrophobic tension. When Peter finally did reply, his tone was firm and unwavering, "What happened with Lydia while I was dead, had less to do with…what I did, and more to do with what she is."

Stiles frowned, "What she is?"

Peter looked at the teenager, brow raised and shook his head, "I'd have thought you'd have figured it out, curious little shit you are."

"Hey." Derek and Stiles snapped in unison, causing Peter to grin.

He looked between them again, "She's not human."

"What?" Stiles frowned, looking from Peter to Derek, who looked just as surprised.

Peter sighed, "Honestly," he shook his head looking at Derek, "You can't sense it? The power that rolls off her. The scent of death." he sighed, letting his head fall back against the cushion, "You'd make the family so proud,"

"Hey," Stiles grunted, taking a step forward, "Quit with the insults and just tell us."

Peter met Stiles angry gaze, briefly glancing over at Derek. "She's a banshee."

"A banshee?" Stiles and Derek repeated, looking at one another. Stiles glared at Peter, "I know Lydia can be a bit of a… well, a bitch but I think calling her a banshee is unfair."

Rolling his eyes, Peter pushed himself up off the couch and stepped around it, leaving the room. "Come on," he called back at them, and the pair hurried to follow.

Peter led them down into the basement and Stiles smirked at the sight of the bookshelves and the desk.

"Where did you get all these books?" Derek practically growled, eyes flickering over the shelves,

Peter stepped up to the desk, "Mostly, the internet."

Stiles snorted, and then sent Derek an apologetic smile, the betrayed look kicking him hard in the chest.

"And you need all of this because?" Derek added, glaring at Peter now.

Peter met the alpha's hard stare and almost, almost flinched back, "I like to be well read." he smirked. "Lydia's a banshee, just like her grandmother before her." Turning his back on them, Peter retrieved a large book from the shelf to his left and dropped it with a loud bang on the table. Stiles stared down at it, lip curling up at the scraps of paper sticking out between pages. Flipping through, Peter finally turned the thing to face then and Stiles stared at the old text and the small illustration of a screaming woman.

Bending over, Stiles let his gaze flicker over the writing, even as Peter informed them as to what it said.

"Banshee's are creatures, more accurately woman, who foretell of a supernatural death."

Stiles looked up, "Just supernatural deaths?"

"Usually, yes." Peter nodded, "but like all supernatural creatures, they are varied. Some Banshee are bound to a particular place, a river, a town…"

"Beacon Hills?" Stiles muttered, looking at Derek.

"While others attach themselves to families."

"Lydia?" Derek asked, and Peter gave a dismissive shrug.

"Is this why you attack Lydia then?" Stiles demanded angrily, "So she could use her banshee mojo to bring you back? Was she your back-up plan?" he spat furiously.

Peter met the teenagers accusing stare, "I didn't have a plan." he looked between the pair, "Despite what you believe, Derek, I didn't plan to be brought back. But somehow, she knew how to do it, to bring me back, most likely because of her connection to death itself." he waved at the open book.

"You said you knew what she was." Derek remarked coldly.

"I did." Peter said, "I knew she was a banshee, I knew she could sense death, and her scream," he flinched painfully, "but I had no idea she was capable of actually resurrecting me."

Stiles watched the werewolf closely, there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something Stiles could only describe as…. shame. Shame masked by arrogance and sarcasm. - For the first time in a year, Stiles actually empathized with Peter Hale.

"Do you have anything on virgin sacrifices?" Stiles asked, looking around the room.

Peter raised a curious brow, "Virgin sacrifices?"

"We don't know that's what this is." Derek muttered.

"I know, you just don't believe me," Stiles snipped back, "Well?" he pressed, looking at Peter.

The man stared at him for a few more seconds, before turning to grab a few books from the shelf. "Why aren't you going to Deaton for this information, out of interest?" he handed the books to Stiles.

Neither of them answered, "I'm taking this too," Stiles said, grabbing the thick tome and adding it to the pile.

Peter shrugged, "Just be sure to return them, won't you."

Stiles huffed, turning to leave.

"That's it, you're leaving?" Peter demanded, voice strangled and insulted.

Derek paused at the stairs, looking back over his shoulder, "Yes. - If you hear anything, let us know."

"Stiles," Peter called as they made it to the top of the basement stairs, "Just one question."

Stiles looked down at him, "Yes."

"What are you?"

Sucking in a deep breath, Stiles turned, Derek's hand pressing into the middle of his shoulder blades, forcing him through the door. He hurried out of the house and into the warm air, sucking in a deep breath. "Shit, he knows."

Derek shook his head, and headed for the car, climbing into the driver's seat and starting the engine. Stiles balanced the heavy books in one arm while pulling open the car door. He'd barely closed it behind him before the Camaro was screeching away from the house.

"Great," Stiles muttered as the car turned onto the main road, "so Peter knows I'm different, Scott knows I'm different, and there's a damn woman with a barcode riding around the town on her motorcycle saving werewolves, and on top of all that we've got some creature or other killing virgins!" he ranted, body shaking, "Oh, and let's not forget that the love of my life is a supernatural alarm bell! - And Peter, oh he's a person I trust with my secret."

"Stiles, calm down." Derek snapped, "Peter doesn't know anything."

"You heard him!"

"All he knows is that there is something off with your scent,"

"My scent," Stiles sighed, "How is it I've been hanging around with werewolves for a year and _now_ you've all decided to pay attention to my scent, which is totally creepy by the way. Like stalker creepy, which for Peter is just a regular day at the office."

Derek frowned thoughtfully, "I - don't know Stiles." He replied calmly, "The only reason I noticed it was because you were having a seizure,"

Stiles looked at the alpha, nodding, "And Scott got his first whiff when I had that panic attack and you stabbed me in the thigh."

"I said sorry about that."

Stiles waved off his guilt, "Which means it must only become noticeable when I'm under extreme stress,"

"Would make sense. Fight or flight response lead to an excess of adrenaline."

Stiles stared at him, lip curling, "It was science club, huh, I knew it." He grinned wide and proud.

"I wasn't in the science club, Stiles," Derek sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. "If you must know, I was... - Well in all honesty, I was pretty much a jerk, like Jackson, until my sophomore year."

Stiles glanced over at him, "What happened? I know you didn't become a werewolf, not that that stopped Jackson from being a jerk, in fact I'd say he's worse." Derek shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line, and Stiles nodded understandingly.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence, Derek focused on the road ahead while Stiles attempted to read in the fading light. When they finally pulled up outside the Stilinski house, Stiles was too oblivious that Derek had to slap his shoulder, startling him. "Hey," Derek nodded at the house behind a disgruntled Stiles, "Oh, right, home. Alright." he fumbled with the handle, shoving the door open and almost toppling out with the pile of books in his lap. "I'm fine," he reassured, just managing to brace himself, which wasn't easy with a left arm wrapped in plaster. "I'm fine," Stiles repeated, scrabbling to his to his feet.

Derek stared at him, amazed, "How can you be a super-soldier and a complete spaz at the same time?" he asked, shaking his head as he watched Stiles fumble with his load.

"Just a skill, I guess."

"If you find anything, call."

Stiles nodded, stumbling over his own feet as he turned away. Derek twisted back preparing to drive away when he caught sight of a familiar red and grey backpack. Shaking his head, Derek grabbed the bag and climbed out, "Stiles, you forget something?" he called, waving the bag as he strolled around the car to hand it over.

Stiles looked back at him confused for a moment, before jogging back, "Thanks. I'll call you later, okay." he smiled, walking backwards.

Derek watched after him, "Yeah. Just so I know you haven't been sacrificed." he smirked.

Stiles was still grinning when he kicked the door closed behind him.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles fears of a virgin sacrifice was confirmed five hours later when his phone rang. With his eyes still scanning a page of text on the rule of three in human sacrifice, Stiles reached for his ringing phone. Connecting the call, he lifted it to his ear as his eyes absorbed the words _ **'each grouping of three as its only power; etc virgins, healers, philosophers or warriors. It all depends on what the high priest is trying to achieve with their sacrifice.'**_ "Yep?"

"Stilinski," Jackson's voice filled his ear and Stiles froze, gaze shooting up from the page to stare blindly at the wall behind his desk, "She's found another one."

"Where are you?" he asked, scrabbling to get off the chair. He glanced at the clock, **00:01**. Stiles yanked open the bottom draw of his nightstand and snagged a pair of crime scene gloves he'd stashed away after the incident with Jackson six months ago, and then moved to snatch his car keys only to paused when he remembered he didn't actually have a car at the moment.

"The school."

Stiles froze, frowning over at the map of the school, already decorated by pieces of paper and string. He stepped over to it, "Where?"

"The car park."

That was the other side of the school from the lacrosse field. Reaching for a pin he pressed it into the wall. "North, East, South." He muttered to himself.

"What? Stilinski, what…?"

"Just stay there, _don't_ call my dad." He ordered, "Just stay there and keep an eye on Lydia." He hung up and rushed out of the room and down the stairs, his thumb moving over the phone screen. "Derek," he said the moment the call picked up, "There's been another one. I need you to pick me up, now."

"I'm on my way." Derek replied gruffly, clearly having been woken.

Derek arrived less than thirty minutes later, and Stiles was sure he broke a few traffic laws. The moment he climbed in, Derek pulled away and sped off in the direction of the school,

"What happened?" Asked Isaac from the back seat.

"Shit." Stiles startled, turning around breathlessly to stare at the other teenager. "Dude, warning." He is shooting a betrayed look between the pair, then settled back in his seat. "Looks like Lydia stumbled on another body. Which makes three, by the way. Three bodies."

"Virgin?" Derek asked, features tense and focused.

"I don't know, but most likely. Oh, but here's the thing, the positions of the body, where they've been found, they're spaced out around the school. The pool is at the north end of the school grounds, the Lacrosse field is east, and the parking lot…"

"South." Isaac finished.

Stiles nodded, "This may not stop at three." He breathed, "I think we're going to get another victim, most likely tomorrow night."

The muscle in Derek's jaw clenched, and his hands tightened on the wheel.

"Are you saying they're going to kill another virgin?" Isaac asked, tone panicked.

Stiles looked over his shoulder at the suddenly anxious werewolf and nodded, "I think so."

Isaac sank into the seat, almost folding in on himself, "Is… - Is that why they took, or tried to take, me?"

Stiles looked at Derek, who's gaze met his briefly, then Stiles turned in the seat, "I don't think so, man. I mean… assuming that Boyd and Erica were taken by whatever is doing this, and they're not virgins, right?" he looked at Derek for confirmation.

"Don't ask me."

"No," Isaac answered, shaking his head.

"So why then." Derek asked, brows pulled together in one single dark line, "Why try to take Isaac if not for this," he gestured at the road ahead.

Stiles stared at the dark street thoughtfully, "Maybe…" he swallowed around the sudden realisation, "Maybe after the virgins comes…" he glanced back at Isaac apologetically, "werewolves."

Derek gritted his teeth and inhaled deeply, nodding.

The car pulled back into the school car park eight hours after leaving it. In the golden light of the lamps that dotted the area, they could just make out Lydia and Jackson, hovering in the middle of the tarmac. Derek pulled to a stop and climbed out, not bothering with cutting the engine, Stiles right behind him.

They didn't need to be shown where the body was, the smell caught all their attention. The tang of fresh blood tainting the air. Stiles bulked at the sight of the young woman, tied to a tree, eyes still open as blood dripped from her mouth.

Stiles headed over to her, pulling out the gloves, struggling to slip one on to his hand. Derek must have seen the trouble he was having because he snatched the glove and put them on his own hands.

"What am I looking for?"

Stiles sighed, "I so need to get rid of this thing," he muttered down at the cast, "It's not like I even need it, my damn arm healed days ago."

"Stiles!" Derek snapped, shrugging out of his leather jacket and handing it to Isaac.

"Right, yeah. Check the neck and back of the head. – And make sure not to contaminate the crime scene, the last thing we need is you being dragged in again."

Derek glared then moved up to the body, trying his best not to touch her with anything but his covered hands.

Stiles watched anxiously, foot tapping impatiently. "Well?"

Derek stepped away before sighing, "Yeah. Throat sliced, strangled and head smashed in." he dragged off the blooded gloves as he strolled back to the group.

"Oh God, what's doing this?" Lydia whimpered, folding herself into Jackson's side.

Stiles shook his head, "I don't know, but…" he looked around them, eyes searching the darkness, "I don't think it's over."

"No one goes anywhere alone." Derek ordered.

"What, why? We're not virgins."

Stiles looked at Jackson, eyes narrow, "How you know she's a virgin?"

Lydia looked up, eyes red rimmed, "I overheard her in her in the restroom this morning talking about how her girlfriend had a camping trip planned this weekend. She was planning," she looked over at the body, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Stiles exhaled a breath, swallowing the pain of seeing Lydia like this, so different to the strong capable woman she usually was. He wanted to go over to her and wrap his arms around her, comfort her, but that wasn't his place. She'd chosen Jackson, even after Stiles had told her he loved her, she'd gone back to him.

Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes away from her, to find Derek watching him. He gave the alpha a small awkward shrug. "You guys may not be virgins, but some of us are." He flushed.

"If Stiles is right,"

"Which he usually is," Stiles clarified, smirking.

"After whatever this is, is done with virgins it might be coming after us."

"Us?" Jackson frowned, still stubbornly refusing to accept his connection to the pack.

"Werewolves." Isaac said sharply, glaring at the other beta.

Derek glared at the pair of them, eyes flashing red, "Isaac was almost taken two weeks ago, Erica and Boyd are still missing. It can't be a coincidence. So," he stressed, "we have to be cautious, all of us. No one goes anywhere alone, I don't care how much you hate each other." He said sharply, "You stick together, and you check in with me each day. I'll not lose another pack member."

Jackson opened to mouth, probably to argue that he wasn't part of Derek's pack, only to snap it shut again when Lydia muttered her agreement.

"What about Scott?" Isaac asked, voice quiet and uncertain.

Stiles and Derek exchanged looks. "I'll talk to him." Stiles muttered, "Right now though, we need to get out of here. I'll call the station and let them know about…" he nodded to the nameless young woman, "anonymously. Make sure there's nothing that can lead back to us. "

"We walked here." Jackson said, looking around the empty parking lot.

Derek sighed, looking at the Camaro, "Get in, I'll drop you off." When no one moved for a few minutes. "Or you could walk." He added, looking at Lydia's bare feet and night clothes.

Lydia, Jackson and Isaac marched reluctantly towards the car and Stiles couldn't help but huff a dry laugh, "If you're going to play soccer dad, dude, you're gonna need a bigger car."

"Shut up Stiles."


	7. Haven

**Haven**

Where a murder of crows had failed, three dead virgins had succeeded. Beacon Hills High School was closed, which should have been excellent news, and honestly for most of the student body, it was. For Stiles however, it was terrible. Not because he was in desperate need for an education. Not because he wanted to be the recipient of Harris' insults, but rather because it meant he was unable to actively nose around the school looking for clues.

In fact, his father had insisted that he not leave the house, but frankly, they'd both known that he wasn't going to abide by that rule, and the moment his dad was out of the front door, he was calling Derek for a ride.

And without a complaint, Derek showed up. The moment his horn sounded outside, Stiles was down the stairs, book bag filled with all his notes on the murders, because he had a plan. They were going to catch this…whatever tonight. It wouldn't be enough to save the next victim, regretfully, but they could at least stop before anyone else was sacrificed. - Specifically, Erica and Boyd.

Before that though, Stiles had to talk to Scott. It wasn't going to be easy, not after almost three months of barely speaking, but it was necessary. If they didn't catch the guy tonight, then there was still an opening for a werewolf sacrifice. Which meant either Isaac, Jackson or Scott, and like hell was Stiles going to let that happen.

He climbed into the Camaro and dropped his heavy book back into the foot-well and slouched back into the seat, "Okay, let's get this over with." he sighed.

"You don't have to do this," Derek said, looking at him with sympathy, "I can go talk to him."

Stiles huffed a dry laugh, "Oh sure, nothing bad could possibly come from that." he sighed, "I'll be fine. He might not actually like me anymore, but he can't deny three dead virgins."

Derek pressed his lips together and started the engine, disbelievingly. And honestly, Stiles didn't believe it either, not really. Scott was stubborn, had _become_ more stubborn over the past year, especially where Derek was concerned.

The ride to Scott's house didn't take long, and all too soon Derek was pulling up outside and switching off the engine. "You want me to come in?" Derek asked, gaze shifting past Stiles to stare at the house.

"Probably not a good idea." Stiles sighed, turning to follow the alpha's gaze to where Scott was stood at the window, staring out at the car. "We don't want this to blow up into a full fledge werewolf smackdown, I don't think Melissa can afford the damages," he smirked, "Just stay here."

Shoving open the car door, Stiles grabbed his bag of evidence. He gave Derek a final reassuring smile, pushed the door shut and then turned to head up to the house.

The front door opened before he even got to it, Scott stood on the threshold like some kind of gatekeeper. When Stiles reached him, he opened his mouth to joke about being the Key Master, only to slam it shut again. He took a breath before finally speaking. "We need to talk, Scott." the werewolf's gaze was fixed over Stiles shoulder at the Camaro. "It's important." he added pleadingly.

Scott looked at him, sighed and then stepped aside, allowing Stiles into a house that had almost been a second home since he was eight.

Stiles looked around, as if expecting the place to have changed in the past three months, but it was exactly how it had always been. The door closed with force behind him and he turned to see Scott stood there, hands in the pockets of his jeans and a tired look on his face. "So?" he muttered.

Licking his lips, Stiles swung his bag around, "The murders."

Scott sighed, "What about them."

"We think they're human sacrifices, virgin sacrifices to be precise." he ripped open the back pack and yanked out the pages, holding them out to Scott, who just stared at them, unmoving.

"We?"

"Ok, me. _I_ think they're virgin sacrifices."

Scott rolled his eyes,

"I'm serious Scott, and when it's finished with the virgins, I think it's going to move on to something else, I think it's going to sacrifice werewolves."

That got Scott's attention at least, because the dismissive look vanished from his face, "What makes you say that?"

"Erica and Boyd being missing, Isaac almost getting kidnapped. I think it's part of some ritual or something, virgins and werewolves, maybe something else. The books say they that each ritual involves groups, virgins, warriors, healers, so on. It all depends on what the person doing the rite is trying to achieve."

"It could be a coincidence," Scott dismisses, but Stiles can see the worry in his eyes.

"One's an incident, two's a coincident, three's…."

"I know Stiles," Scott said, cutting him off, "three's a pattern." he sighed, "So what do you want me to do?"

Stiles stared at him, mouth gaping slightly, _give a shit would be a start_ , he thinks, "The pack is on lockdown…"

"Pack?" Scott bristled, "So your part of Derek's pack now?"

Stiles held his breath, silently counting to ten. When he was calm he exhaled, "I just meant, that the werewolves, all of them, Jackson too, are on lockdown."

Scott's jaw clenched, "Meaning?"

"Meaning we stay together. No one is left alone, and we check in with Derek every few hours." the second that last part left his lips, Stiles knew he'd said the wrong thing. He should have said they were checking in with him, Scott would have, _might_ have accepted that.

"I'm fine, Stiles." Scott said, handing out of his pockets and reaching for the door, yanking it open. "Whatever is behind this is clearly targeting Derek, seeing as they've taken Boyd and Erica, and tried to take Isaac. I'm not part of Derek's _pack_. - If anyone should be careful Stiles, it's you."

Stiles stared at his ex-best friend, lips pressed into a thin angry line. "This isn't about Derek." he insisted, though his head was rolling that possibility around, "And even if it _were_ , this _thing_ is killing people and likely coming after werewolves, _four_ werewolves." Scott continues to stare at him. "and if it can't get to Isaac or Jackson, you're the last werewolf in town."

"There's Peter."

Stiles inhaled deeply, growing frustrated, "Dammit Scott, why can't you just work with me here. I know we're not friends anymore but that doesn't mean I want to see you tied to the street lamp with your throat cut and your head caved in! Just come with us, and wait out the night and…"

"You're right Stiles, we're not friends any more, and who's fault is that?"

"What?" Stiles mouth gaped open, "You're the one that walked out and stopped talking to me, and why? Because I was hanging out with Derek. Because I _like_ Derek."

"I didn't see you trying to fix it."

"Fix it?" Stiles growled, "It wasn't down to me to fix anything Scott, I wasn't the one behaving like a jerk!"

Scott's eyes flickered gold, "I was not being a jerk," he growled back, "I was looking out for you, Derek can't be trusted."

Before, Stiles would have feigned nervousness and caution at those amber eyes, out of fear revealing too much of himself, but he was tired of pretended to be a weak and feeble human. Shoving his papers back into his backpack, Stiles flung it over his shoulder, and took a step forward. "Strange how he's the untrustworthy one considering what you've done the last year."

Scott's eyes widen, a mixture of surprise and…hurt, "Meaning?"

"That shit you pulled with Gerard Argent?"

"He threatened my mom, and Allison, what was I meant to do?"

Stiles couldn't help but huff out a laugh, "It's not that you did it, Scott. It's that you didn't tell us - You didn't tell _me_."

Scott stared at him, eyes narrowing, "As if you tell me everything."

Stiles stiffened at the meaning behind the words, his shoulders slumping. Breathing out a long breath, Stiles nodded, "You're right, and I've asked myself why every day. Why I can't tell you? And the fact is, Scott, I just…" his voice broke around the confession, "I just don't trust you." tears pooled in his eyes as he looked at his onetime friend, "And nothing you've done, or said, nothing has changed that."

Scott's spine straightened, defensively, "What have I done to make you think you can't trust me?" he demanded, "I've been there for you…"

Stiles shook his head, "No, Scott, you haven't. When Peter was running rampant through the town, I called you, over and over, but you never answered. When Derek and I were in the pool, fighting to stay alive, it took you how long to come looking for me? When I told you, not to go to that party, the night of your first full moon, did you listen? No. When I told you there was something off with Matt. - You kissed, Lydia, knowing I love her, you kissed her and then lied to me about it."

"Stiles that…"

He held up a hand, "And when Gerard Argent grabbed me after the game and took me back to his place," his throat tightened around the words, the tears finally slipping from between his lashes, "When I was in that basement being beaten and kicked, when I was thrown out of a moving car by one of his lackeys, where were you Scott? Where were you when I needed you?"

Scott stared, brown eyes glistening. "Derek didn't look for you either," he argued, "He was the one that insisted we…"

"Derek wasn't my best friend, Scott." Stiles whispered, moving towards the door. "You were."

"I…" Scott swallowed thickly, his gaze dropping to the floor, "Jackson was…"

Stiles sighed, stepping over the threshold and out into the warm sunshine, blinking back tears and leaving. Half way across the lawn, Stiles paused, turning, looking back at the other teenager, "Just be careful, okay," he said brokenly, "We might not be friends anymore Scott, but… I don't' want to see you dead." then he turned and headed for the Camaro.

Derek said nothing when Stiles clambered back into the passenger seat and slammed the car door, instead the alpha twisted the wheel and screeched away from the McCall house. Neither one spoke as they took the road out of town towards Derek's home. Stiles stared out of the window blindly, blinking back tears and trying to calm his anger, shaking out his hand to force away the tremor that had started. He couldn't believe Scott was being so damn stubborn, he was going to get himself killed. Why couldn't he just…accept that Derek was the alpha?

 _"I was looking out for you, Derek can't be trusted."_

Stiles glanced to his left and stared at the man's profile. Stiles had to admit, he hadn't trusted Derek either, once, but then Derek had put himself between him and Peter, between him and Isaac, between him and Jackson, and between him and Matt. He'd trusted Stiles with his life and listened to him, respected him. - He'd come when Stiles had called and saved his life.

"He tried to look for you." Derek announced suddenly, tearing into Stiles thoughts and making him startled.

"What?"

"The night you were…taken by Gerard. He tried to look, him and Isaac, but Gerard covered your scent and…we were running out of time. We knew Gerard was up to something, we knew Jackson was a part of his plan, we had…"

Stiles exhaled an angry breath, twisting back to stare at the passing woodland, "But he stopped."

"Did he even try the house?" Stiles snapped, "I was right there, in the damn basement!"

"He'd have never gotten close to the house."

Stiles knew that Derek had a point, Scott and Allison weren't talking, but he also knew that Scott wouldn't have been shot on sight the way Derek or the others would have been. Mostly because he'd apparently been working with Gerard. So, the fact that he didn't even look, spoke volumes.

"I didn't check the house either," Derek said in a low voice, "for Erica and Boyd."

Stiles looked at the alpha, "You didn't even know Erica and Boyd had been taken," he reasoned, "You thought they'd left town. You couldn't have known to even look."

Derek blew out a breath, the muscle in his jaw twitching, "I should have known. I'm the alpha."

Shaking his head, Stiles couldn't stop the corner of his mouth curling up in a lopsided smile, "See, you're always hard on yourself."

"No, I'm just honest."

Stiles smirked, dragging the sleeve of his shirt across his face. "I wouldn't go that far. You've lied almost as much as I have." he chuckles.

They took the dirt road up to the house and Stiles eyes widened at the sight of a very familiar silver Volvo. "Lydia's here?" he frowned.

"As the school has been closed, I told her and Jackson to come to the house." Stiles stared at him, surprised. The Camaro pulled to a stop and Derek cut the engine, shifting under Stiles watchful gaze. "It's not a big deal."

"No." Stiles agreed softly.

Derek met his gaze for a long few seconds, before turning away and climbing out of the car. Stiles remained inside for a second or two more, trying to gather himself, confused by the way his heart had just skipped a beat. It wasn't as if he'd expect anything else from Derek, he was the alpha, and Stiles knew he was trying to make up for letting down Erica and Boyd. However, he'd come to know Derek, more than he'd ever expected considering their rather chaotic beginnings, and he knew this wasn't just duty or guilt, Derek genuinely cared about their safety. Cared about the towns safety.

"Are you coming inside, or do you plan on staying out here all day?" Derek asked from the front porch.

Stiles grinned, shoving open the door and hurrying after the werewolf.

Despite Isaac, Jackson and Lydia all being present in the house, when Stiles stepped inside he frowned at the empty den. The place looked deserted. "Where is everyone?" he asked, looking over to where Derek was shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the arm of the couch.

"Upstairs," he answered, nonplus, and took a seat on the comfortable couch.

Stiles looked at the staircase, then back to Derek, frowning. "Together?"

Derek rolled his eyes, "Isaac's in his room, and Jackson and Lydia are currently," he cringed, flushing slight and reaching for the remote, "in one of the others."

Lydia and Jackson were alone in one of the spare rooms. Together. And from the look on Derek's face, they weren't studying. Stiles cleared his throat, shuffling on his feet and determinedly not straining his hearing to listen. "I'm uh…" he thumbed over his shoulder, "gonna head down to the basement, okay?" he lifted his book-bag, just to make it clear why he was heading down into the study.

"Uh, sure." Derek nodded, shifting forward on the couch, as if to rise, but Stiles waved him off before vanishing down the hall to the kitchen.

_(*-*)_/

Derek sat in the den, staring at the TV. He wasn't watching, not really, rather he was listening to the movements around the house. Isaac's fingers moving over the keyboard of his laptop, the hum of music likely coming from the teenager's phone as he tried to drown out the sounds of the room down the hall. Derek tried not to listen to Jackson and Lydia, but there was the constant thump of their heartbeats, fast and excited. He should probably feel uncomfortable about the pair having sex in his house, and part of him did, but it also put him at ease. The normality of life. A life he'd lost almost a decade ago.

Focusing, Derek listened to the sound of pages being turned, of quiet mutterings and the movement of a pen. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the couch and just listened to Stiles, ignoring the shame and guilt that was slowly clawing at his insides.

Over the past few months he'd tried to ignore it. Tried to push it aside, but the more time he spent with Stiles the stronger his feelings grew, and he hated himself for it. Stiles was the same age he'd been when Kate had dug her nails deep into his soul and begun to tear him apart, and it made him sick to think that he was the same.

 _"You're not Kate."_ Stiles had told him, and he wanted to believe that, but then Stiles… then there was Stiles. Pushing him, challenging him. Trusting him with a secret he didn't even trust Scott with.

The truth of the matter was, he'd felt a pull towards Stiles almost from the second they'd met. The moment he'd climbed into the patrol car and looked at him, excited and terrified, demanding answers, and no matter how much he'd tried to distance himself from the teenager, Stiles just kept…being there. Every time something happened, every time Derek needed him, he was there.

He wasn't foolish enough to believe that it was a conscious thing, that Stiles was going out of his way to install himself into Derek's life, but the universe seemed to want it. The someone up there, watching down on him, kept dropping Stiles into his life at just the right moment. Saving him.

Swallowing thickly, Derek shoved himself off the couch and headed to the kitchen. Yanking open the refrigerator he grabbed a bottle of water, then stared at the others. Stiles had been down there almost an hour, he was probably thirsty by now. Grabbing an extra bottle, Derek closed the refrigerator with his hip and headed for the basement.

He would never do anything about his feelings, of course. They were his cross to bear, weighing him down every day, but neither could he just ignore the teenager. Stiles needed a friend, and without Scott around, Derek felt a responsibility to be that shoulder to lean on. Especially when he was partially responsible for the destruction of Stiles and Scott's relationship.

The basement was lit with a stark white glow from the fluorescent light. Stiles sat at the large desk in the corner, head bowed over the books, lost in his own head, which was why he hadn't looked up when Derek first started down the stairs. Behind him, the wall that had once been blank stone, was now covered in maps and pieces of paper, along with coloured string. Squinting, Derek made out pictures of Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, as well as the three victims. There was a piece of paper with Cora's name on it, and another with a giant question mark and a messy barcode drawn along the bottom.

The desk was covered with the thick books he'd taken from Peter and scraps of paper with random things written across them. There was a highlighter hanging out of Stiles mouth and Derek couldn't help but feel a little spark of joy and amusement at the thought of Peter getting his ancient books back with streaks of yellow and orange dotted throughout them. – Though there was another part of him that felt a little angry that Stiles would blemish them.

Stepping up to the desk, Derek waited for Stiles to notice his presence. When he didn't so much as glance up from the pages, Derek cleared his throat.

Predictably, Stiles startled and almost knocked everything off the desk when his body spasmed in surprise. Derek would never understand how he could be so clumsy while having the genetic enhancements he's meant to have. Then again, his aunt Tamara hadn't been the most graceful of werewolves.

"Shit dude, get a bell!"

Derek lifted a brow, "I didn't think I'd need one, considering."

Stiles huffed out an unimpressed grunt and righted the papers his arm had tossed aside. "What are you doing down here? Has something happened?" he looked up again suddenly, panic in his eyes.

Derek shook his head, holding out the bottle. "Thought you might be thirsty, and…came to ask what you wanted for lunch?" Stiles stared at him, mouth gaping and confused, as if Derek had just asked him what he wanted to call their first child. "I'm ordering in, for all of us." He clarified, ignoring that thought.

"Oh, yeah, great. Pepperoni and green peppers, chilli fries and a coke." He grinned. "Thanks dude."

"Okay." Derek said, but didn't move to leave, instead looking down at Stiles work, "How's it going?"

Stiles sighed, leaning back in the leather chair, "It's not. I've got a ton of theories from devil worship to crazed escape lunatic, but nothing concrete. Nothing has been left at the crime scenes but for the bodies and…" he turned to stare at the maps, "It's not like they were even found at any particually special site, I mean it's the high school."

Derek frowned, "It wasn't always the high school though," he muttered thoughtfully. "The school was only build in the 40s right, what was there before?"

Stiles spun around to stare at him, "Shit, man, why didn't I think of that." He shook his head and got to his feet, "Dammit, I should have brought my laptop. Why the hell didn't I bring…"

"You could ask Isaac."

"Excellent!" Stiles nodded, sprinting for the stairs only to draw to a halt half way up,

Derek knew without asking what had caused Stiles to freeze so suddenly, and his chest clenched with empathy. "I'll…get him to bring it down."

Stiles turned to stare at him, "I… uh, thanks." He slowly made his way back down and over to the desk.

Derek left Stiles to his research once more and headed up to the first floor, wincing at the overpowering scent of sex that was wafting down the hall. Closing his eyes, he braced himself and headed for Isaac's room, knocking loudly. When there was no answer, Derek listened to make sure Isaac wasn't doing anything…compromising, and then pushed at the door. It caught after a few inches and he looked down to see a towel rolled up and pressed against the bottom. Ah, how he remembered having to do that, especially that weekend his parents went away with Cora to a pack gathering in the UK, and he was left with Laura. Laura and her new boyfriend. Worse three days of his life.

Isaac turned angrily, nose wrinkled, "Derek?" yanked the buds out of his ear and looked over at him from the bed, where he'd been reading.

"Firstly, I'm ordering pizza. Usual?"

Isaac nodded, "And the second?"

"Stiles needs your laptop."

Isaac sighed, nodding to the desk. "Sure,"

"Could you take it down to him. Unless you want to knock on Jackson's door and ask him what he wants?"

Isaac was off the bed before Derek had finished, grabbing the computer, sucking in and holding his breath and rushing past him. Derek grinned, shaking his head and pulled the door closed.

_(*-*)_/

Pizza arrived, and everyone piled into the kitchen to eat. Thankfully Lydia and Jackson had showered, though they still stank of sex, it wasn't half as bad at the bedroom itself. Derek was going to have to air that room out for a week. Isaac and Stiles strolled in talking animatedly, well, Stiles was talking, Isaac just pressed his lips together and listened.

"Pizza, awesome." Stiles grinned, hurrying over to snag as many slices of the pepperoni as he could, before falling into the seat at the other end of the table, smiling gratefully across at Derek, who'd taken the seat directly opposite. Isaac was more cautious in taking food, as he always was, despite Derek telling him to help himself, and took a chair close to Derek. Lydia and Jackson lounged in chairs next to each other in the middle of the table, Jackson's arm stretched possessively across the back of Lydia's chair.

"So, I found out what was on the land before the school." Stiles announced, looking down the table at Derek.

"And?" he replied, chewing a piece of ham from his Hawaiian pizza.

"A church." Stiles announced around a large bite.

Derek frowned, "Really?"

Stiles nodded, chewing vigorously, "Old Catholic church. It burnt down in the late 1900s and eventually the land was sold off in 1930. Beacon Hills High School opened on September 1st, 1941."

"You think these murders have to do with the church then?" Lydia asked.

Stiles shrugged, "It makes more sense than it being the school itself."

"So, what do we do?" Isaac asked.

Stiles leant forward, "Actually, I was thinking that we try and catch this guy."

Derek stared, brow raised, "And how do you want to do that exactly when we don't even know who it is."

"Are we going to use you as bait?" Jackson huffed, smirking at Stiles. He hissed in a pained breath and turned angry eyes on Lydia, "Hey!"

Stiles ignored them, fixing his gaze on Derek down the table and biting into another slice of pizza before answering, "Whoever is doing this has probably already picked their target, and there's no way for us to figure out who it's going to be. The killer, they're not even just taking kids from our school. Heather went to the private school across town. - Which means, the only way we're going to catch them, is if we stake out the school and wait for them to string up the next victim."

"You want us to just hang around the school waiting for a psycho to turn up with a dead body?" Jackson scoffed, shaking his head, "That's insane."

"It's our only option." Stiles insisted, glaring at the werewolf. "Unless you want to wait for the next round of sacrifices?" He stated coldly, eyes locked with Jackson's.

There were a few moments of tense angry silence before Derek cleared his throat. "Okay," he snapped, drawing everyone's attention. "We stake out the school tonight."

Stiles grinned smugly, "Excellent. Seeing as the first three victims where in the North, East and South of the school, I think the next body is going to be placed in the gym."

"Okay." Derek agreed, "The bodies have all been discovered at 00:00, right?" he looked at Lydia who reluctantly nodded. "In that case, we'll head out at 11pm."

"Do we really all have to be there?" Jackson asked warily.

"Strength in numbers." Derek said, "We don't know what this is, or how powerful it might be."

Jackson exhaled a put-upon sigh, and slumped in the chair, "Fine."

"Look," Derek growled, leaning forward on the chair, "You wanted this, I told you what it meant to take the bite. The responsibilities that came with becoming my beta. If you want to take your chances as an omega, then go ahead." He snapped angrily, eye flashing red.

"Scott's been doing alright on his own." Jackson argued.

Stiles gritted his teeth and focused on his plate, picking at the peppers, and he heard Derek take in a deep breath. Looking up, he saw the alpha struggle to control his anger, before he turned his now green, softer eyes back to Jackson.

"I'm not here to control you Jackson," Derek said after a few seconds, "That's not what an alpha is. My job is to protect you, and this town, but we can only survive if we're together. – Scott, he doesn't understand that because he didn't choose this, not like you, not like Isaac, Erica and Boyd, this was forced on him by Peter." He looked down the table at Stiles, a sad smile on his lips. "He's angry, and he doesn't trust me, with good reason, but that won't stop me looking out for him." He glanced around the table. "Or any of you." He settled his gaze back on Jackson.

Stiles sucked in a breath and stared at the alpha. Silence wrapped around him until the only thing he could hear was the hurried thump, thump of his heart. He watched Derek as the world carried on around him.

"Stiles?" Lydia snapped, shaking his shoulder.

"What?" Stiles blinked, turning to look at the girl, confused.

She glared, her unimpressed bitchface fixed into place, "I asked about Peter."

Stiles flushed, looking around the table as they all stared at him. Licking his lips, he settled his eyes on Derek for a moment, the man shrugging, before turning back to Lydia. "He's uh…" his gaze flickered over to Jackson, then back, "…he's not doing anything."

Jackson scoffed, angrily. "Sure."

"Okay, he's probably doing something because you know, its Peter, but…he's not responsible for your…thing."

"My thing?" Lydia said, indignant. "You mean me wandering through the streets naked."

Stiles fumbled with his pizza, "Uh, the thing is Lydia your kind of um, not exactly human."

"Excuse me?"

He looked up, tight smile on his face, "You're a banshee."

"What!" she snapped angrily, insulted.

Stiles hands flew up defensively, holding her at bay, "I mean, not in a bad way, like…I mean, sure its bad for some people but its not like in the movies you know, you're not a hag with wild hair, you have wonderful hair. Beautiful hair, and totally not a hag, but well it seems your grandmother was a banshee and you're a banshee, and what happened with Peter when you…that wasn't him, that was…well that was you."

Lydia stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line of frustration and restrained anger.

Stiles fumbled to his feet, "I'll get you the book." He scampered off to the basement, returning a few seconds later with the large volume. He handed it over to her cautiously, as if scared she might use it to beat him to death.

She didn't take it straight away, instead staring at it with the same fear and apprehension someone would show to being handed a grenade, which Stiles understood wholeheartedly, and so he waited, the book weighing next to nothing in his grip.

Finally, she reached for it, having to use both hands to lift it over the table. Her plate rattled against her glass of water when she shifted it out of the way to make space for the book. Stiles retook his seat, and looked nervously down the table to Derek, who met his gaze and nodded reassuringly.

While Lydia read up on banshees, the rest of them sat in an awkward silence. It felt like a family reunion dinner where half the family hated the other half, and Stiles rooted around in his head for something, anything to say. "I've got a new theory on why Coach hates Greenburg so much." Jackson and Isaac both look at him, brows raised, half interested, half exasperated, "Yeah, so what if Greenburg is Coach's secret love child."

Isaac almost choked on his soda, the force of a startled laugh causing the liquid to paint his plate and dribble down his nose. Jackson on the other hand was staring at Stiles like he was insane, but there was a tick at the corner of his mouth.

"What? It's plausible." Stiles argued, waving his hand, "He's overcompensating. Everyone knows that when you're that aggressively angry with someone its because you have some secret love for them." He couldn't help his gaze landing on Derek, who stared back at him with a deep frown, jaw tight. Stiles smirked, because it was either smirk or turn bright red and run for the basement.

Jackson's nose wrinkles, "Awe."

"What?" Stiles frowned, "How is the Coach being Greenberg's secret daddy gros…? – Awe, Jackson," he gagged,

"You started it!" Jackson argued, "Secret love,"

The table shook, and everyone's eyes shot around to Lydia. She looked down at the book, then at them, before pushing her chair back, "I'm taking this," she stated, leaving no room for argument.

"Uh, sure but…well it's not…my book."

Lydia lifted a perfectly curved brow and looked down the table at Derek, challenging him to refuse her. He didn't flinch, but rather met her hard look head on. "It's not mine either," he informed her dismissively, "It belongs to Peter."

There was a tense silence, a sharp intake of breath from Jackson, and then Lydia replied, "Fine." She wrapped both hands around the book and shuffled away from her seat and headed for the stairs.

Stiles listened to her taking the steps at a steady pace, and the soft whine of the bedroom door brackets. He looked to Jackson, who was sat staring after her, but didn't move to follow.

The tension was back, and Stiles hated it. He opened his mouth to make a joke only for Derek to cut across him. "Last night's hockey game is on TVO, if anyone is interested."

Stiles stared at Derek. Derek liked hockey?

Jackson looked at the alpha, and Stiles was sure he was going to make some kind of asshole comment about how hockey was for losers, and real men watch lacrosse, only to have his mind blown when the beta nodded, muttering, "Sounds good," getting to his feet. Isaac swiftly following suit.

"Stiles?" Derek asked.

"Uh, I've got some more reading to do."

Derek shook his head, getting to his feet and walking over to Stiles. "Don't you think you've done enough reading?" he asked, looking down at Stiles, "There's nothing else you can discover. – And hopefully after tonight, you won't need to."

Stiles stared at him, mouth gaping. "Uh, yeah, I guess." He looked at the table, "What about clean-up."

Derek shrugged, "I'll do it later. Come on." He nodded towards the den and Stiles reluctantly got to his feet, following him.

* * *

 **A/N: I know the later part of his chapter is mostly filler, but I thought it needed a little calm after the argument with Scott.**


	8. Proof of Purchase

**Proof of Purchase**

Staking out the gym sounded a lot easier than it was. After a day spent at the house, watching hockey and barely speaking. Okay, stiles spoke. A lot, but someone had to break up the awkward stretches of suffocating silence, and he was good at talking about nothing in particular. In this case rolling off stats and player bios he wasn't even aware he knew.

While the boys hung out watching sports like it was normal, Lydia had stashed herself away in the bedroom with Peter's book. Jackson had gone up during the break in play. There'd been muffled sound and judging by the looks on Derek and Isaac's faces, whatever was being said wasn't good. Jackson was back down before the game started back up with a look that was trapped halfway between tired and resigned. Stiles had glanced questionably at Derek, who'd simply shaken his head subtly and nodded towards the television.

At around seven, Stiles had received a text from his dad asking where he was and whether he'd be home for dinner. - Which was code for, "Will I be able to order junk food." He'd almost let it go, but they'd had so little time together the last few months, that Stiles had typed out **Be Home Soon** , before getting up to leave.

Derek had gotten to his feet to give him a ride, but when Stiles had called up to say farewell to Lydia, she'd hurriedly came down and offered to drive him. There had been a strange moment where he'd been torn between the pair, looking between them, before Derek had stepped back and told Stiles he'd pick him up at 11pm. Stiles nodded stiffly and followed Lydia out of the house, trying to ignore the murderous glare Jackson was shooting his way.

And as promised, Derek had been parked up outside his house when he'd looked out his window at 11 that night in a large black people carrier. Stiles was still grinning and laughing when he climbed inside to find Isaac and Jackson in the back seat with sore looks on their faces.

"Nice car." Stiles had grinned, "Did you steal it from a soccer mom?"

Derek shot him an indignant glare and pulled away from the house without a word.

Not wanting to give themselves away because you know, pretty pointless if the bad guy sees them before they see him, Derek parked two streets away and they headed to the school on foot. Obviously, the place was locked up and Derek wrapped his fingers around the bar and pressed. Stiles could hear the metal creaking as he began to bend, and Stiles hurriedly stepped forward and yanked the back of Derek's jacket, stopping him.

"We're trying to be inconspicuous, remember genius. It's not going to look all that inconspicuous if they bad guy shows up and the doors broken, is it?" Stiles rolled his eyes hard and shook his head, reaching into his pockets and producing a set of keys, "Let me show you how the professionals do it."

"Where did you get those?" Derek grumbled, looking around them.

"Dude, with the crap going down over the past year, you think I wouldn't get a set of keys made?" he snorted, looking up at the alpha as the door latch clicked and he pulled it open, "I'm Batman." he grinned.

Derek rolled his eyes and shoved at Stiles shoulder, "Sure you are." pushing him into the school kitchen.

Once inside they took up positions in the gym, which wasn't easy as there wasn't exactly a plethora of hiding spots. They couldn't hide outside either of the double door entrances, because they couldn't be sure which one Mr. Likes-to-string-up-teenagers was going to use, so Derek sent Jackson and Isaac to hide in the changing rooms, ignoring their complaints about having to work together. Isaac trying desperately to convince Derek to let him go with him, or at the very least, Stiles. Derek refused however, and the pair wandered off, their feet dragging. Each one complaining about being lumbered with the other, though somehow managing to agree that it could be worse, "They could be stuck with Stilinski." Which you know, rude.

Stiles and Derek headed off to the other side of the gym and the equipment room. Unlocking the door, the pair slipped into the dark and closed it behind them, leaving a small gap to see through.

That was over an hour ago. Stiles looked down at his watch and frowned, 12:15. "I don't get it." he shook his head, "They should have been here by now."

Derek looked away from the small gap they'd left in the door, "Maybe you've got the wrong night, or the wrong place?"

Stiles shook his head angrily, "No. Here tonight is the only thing that makes sense." he stared off into the dark thoughtfully, "Maybe…maybe it's not a four-victim sacrifice. Maybe it's a three, like I originally thought. Three virgins, three werewolves."

Derek stiffened, staring back out into the darkened gym. "Which means they'll be looking for their third werewolf."

Stiles stiffened, rummaging in his pocket for his cell, "Or they've already got one."

"Cora?"

Stiles looked up from his cell where he was frantically messaging Scott, "Oh, uh…" he shook his head, brows pinched, "But…she's working with them, right? I mean she tried to take Isaac…"

"And she failed," Derek said tightly, chest heaving, "Maybe whoever it is decided to use her instead."

Ok, that wasn't good. "I…"

Derek's back stiffened and his features shifted to their wolf form, "Shhh, someone's coming."

Stiles leapt of the box he'd been sat on, and hurried to join Derek, "Who?"

"Shit." Derek hissed, his head turning to fix Stiles with a frustrated yet concerned frown, "Your dad."

"Double shit." Stiles whispered back, his heart rate picking up. "That's not good, if he finds…." he chewed on his lip, "How far away?"

"One corridor over," Derek replied, straining to listen.

"Okay." Stiles nodded, shoving Derek behind him and hurriedly opening the door. "We need to get out of here, now."

Derek gave a nod of agreement and called Isaac and Jackson, then they as quietly and as fast as possible sprinted through the other set of doors, away from the sheriff, and they didn't stop until they reached the car only a couple of minutes later.

Stiles doubled over, panting. He wasn't used to pushing himself like that, the last time being the night he'd ran into Derek in the woods. His chest heaved, and he gulped in air desperately. When he finally straightened it was to find Isaac and Jackson staring at him, eyes wide and noses wrinkled, confused. He looked to Derek, who broke away from the staring contest with his boots to meet Stiles' gaze with a sympathetic sigh, and the reality of the situation came crashing into him. He'd run with the wolves, faster than the wolves even. He'd done so without a single word of complaint or falling over his own feet. He looked back at the betas and chewed his lips, waiting for the question.

They stood in the semi dark street, the only sound that of their breathing and the occasional dog bark. Derek broke the tense silence when he pushed himself off the car and turned to them, "Okay, you've got questions, but its late."

"Questions?" Jackson scoffed, his eyes never leaving Stiles, "You could say that. What the hell Stilinski?"

Derek opened his mouth to tell Jackson to leave it for now, only to be cut off by Isaac. "You're not a wolf?"

Stiles sighed, dragging his hand through his hair. He looked to Derek for help, hoping he could use his alpha powers to somehow wipe their memories, but all he could do was shrug regretfully. "No," he replied finally with a long-tired breath, "I'm not a wolf,"

"But you're not human." Isaac clarified.

"I'm…kind of human." Stiles said, shrugging. "It's complicated and…" he looked to Derek again, "Look, like Derek said, its late."

"If you're not human, what are you?" Jackson demanded accusingly.

"Jackson."

"I'm…. - " Stiles narrowed his eyes at Jackson, taking a step forward, "…stronger than you. That's all you need to know right now." he warned, and Jackson's eyes flashed blue.

"Oh really," Jackson seethed, stepping into Stiles' personal space, "What to test that theory?"

"Anytime, Whittemore."

Derek stepped between them, his back to Stiles and his hand firmly pressed into Jackson's chest, "You want to stop now, Jackson," he warned.

"Or what, Stilinski will kick my ass?" he scoffed.

"No," Derek said in a low voice, moving right up into Jackson's face with his red eyes glowing, "I will."

Despite himself, Jackson wilted, dropping his gaze and taking a cautious step back.

"Tomorrow." Stiles said around Derek, "You want me to prove it, fine. Tomorrow at the house."

"Stiles." Derek groaned, glaring at the teenager.

Stiles pressed his lips into a tight line and glared at the alpha, "Tomorrow."

With a tired sigh, Derek shook his head and stepped away from them, "Let's get out of here."

When they dropped Jackson off at his house, Stiles reminded him to be at the house tomorrow, noon, which Jackson heartily agreed too. Derek growled under his breath, heading for Stiles' place. "What are you trying to prove?"

Stiles huffed, "Other than the obvious?"

"Yes."

"That just because he's a werewolf, there are still people…things stronger than him. - Besides I've been wanting to give Jackson a taste of his own medicine since middle school when he flushed Scott's head down the toilet." he smirked.

Derek looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, resigned to the situation, "Fine. I'll pick you up at 10, okay?"

The car pulled to a stop outside the house, "Better not," Stiles said, shaking his head, "Dad will be home, I'll walk."

There were a few seconds where it looked like Derek was going to argue, then he nodded, "Alright. Night Stiles."

Stiles lent through the rolled down window, lips curving at the corner, "Night Derek." he paused, just smiling at the alpha, before remembering that Isaac was in the car too. He turned to look at the beta and nodded his farewell, "Night Isaac."

"Night Stiles." Isaac replied stiffly.

And then Stiles stepped away and headed for the house, waving Derek to leave. He kept watching until the SUV was out of sight before going inside.

_(*-*)_/

Derek groaned as he pushed himself off the couch, blinking at the sunlight that was spilling though the window. He'd fallen asleep in front of the TV again, for the twentieth day in a row. He'd tried to go to bed, stretching out on the new mattress, staring up at the new ceiling, in his new room and just laid there listened to the beat of Isaac's heart down the hall. Moving into the house, he'd hoped would give him a sense of stability, but all it did was remind him what wasn't there.

If he were honest, he probably would have given up on the place months ago. He'd been considering just hiring someone to fix the place up and then… well, he wasn't sure what he would have done after that, but then Stiles had started showing up to help and he couldn't bring himself to turn him away. The next thing he'd known they were standing outside a fully refurbished house, larger than the one Kate had destroyed.

However, now he was actually living in the house it felt suffocating, cold and empty. What had once been filled with heartbeats and laughter, and fighting - they were a family after all, - is now barely a home. Derek knows Isaac is only there because he has nowhere else to go, and that the moment he finds a better offer, or he graduates, he'll leave. Just as Erica and Boyd left.

Not that he blamed the pair for leaving. Why would they stay when he offered them very little? He'd kept the promise of strength, power and health, but had failed to give them a second home, a second family. - He'd failed to give them the security of pack.

Dragging his feet into the kitchen, Derek fussed around to make coffee and noting the empty cupboards. They'd never been empty growing up, his dad had kept the house fully stocked, ready to feed the ravenous hordes. He looked over to the kitchen table, his body falling back against the counter as the memory slammed into him. It had rarely ever been that empty, there was always someone sat there. If it wasn't his young brothers arguing over some board game or coloring book, it was Laura and her friends sitting around eating junk food and talking about boys, girls and school. Cora, surrounded by newspapers and paint, slowly filling the house with her talent. - God, she'd had such talent.

He remembered his parents Thursday nights, where they'd have a dinner just the two of them, candle lit and private, all the kids ordered to stay away from the kitchen. Which usually meant family movie night for them, a cooler in the corner and popcorn covering almost every surface. And when his mom and dad weren't drooling over on another, his mom was sat with his dad and Laura, talking pack business.

The house was never silent, and rarely had less than three people in it at one time. Derek had never been alone until Peter died. Never been fully disconnected from family or pack, so yeah, maybe he'd gone a little crazy when he'd become alpha, though thankfully not as crazy as Peter himself.

Turning away from the table, Derek hurriedly poured his coffee and marched out the kitchen, through the living room and out onto the porch. Lowering himself into the swing at the far end, he stared ahead into nothing, both hands wrapped around the mug. It was a bright morning, warm already and Derek lifted his nose in the air, inhaling deeply. They were going to have an Indian Summer, he could smell it and he smiled. He'd missed the California weather in New York.

The first couple of years had been torture for him, not just because it got beyond friggin' cold, or the snow, but because of the built up, claustrophobic way New York wrapped around him, crushing him. He'd suffered from panic attacks for over a year, which was why he'd ended up seeing Doctor Rhodes. He'd still been seeing her right up until he'd left for Beacon Hills a year ago.

She'd helped him deal with a lot, not just the panic attacks and the feeling of being trapped, but with the guilt over Kate, telling him it wasn't his fault. That the Argents were merciless, despite what they liked the supernatural world to believe. That what Kate had done to him was typical of the callous way the family, and hunters in general, dealt with their kind. They were racists and saw werewolves, and almost anything that wasn't human, as soulless creatures to be exterminated. Rabid dogs to be put down. It wasn't his fault, he was a child already suffering from self-doubt and guilt, just wanting someone to punish him for the crimes he'd already committed.

Shaking his head, Derek cleared the lump from his throat and ordered his mind away from that dark path. He didn't think about that, not ever.

Sipping at his coffee, he closed his eyes, listening once more to Isaac's heartbeat. So loud in the empty house and felt his stomach tightened. The house wouldn't be empty is Laura had still been alive. Then again, there wouldn't be a house if Laura was still alive. She'd made it perfectly clear that she was never going to return to Beacon Hills. She'd been happy in New York, with her friends and her job, and her boyfriend Andrew. - God, Derek flinched, shaking his head, he hadn't even told the man she was dead. He hadn't had contact with anyone from New York in a year. He should probably do that, call around the packs, call Andrew, tell them all that Laura was dead, and he was the new alpha. He could just imagine how welcome that news would be. - He doubted even Nick and Clay would be particularly happy about it. Mostly because they both knew how much he struggled, how angry he'd always been at the world. Neither of them would be surprised to learn that he'd failed as an alpha. - He couldn't even keep food in the cupboards.

Gritting his teeth, Derek shoved himself off the swing and marched into the house. After depositing his mug in the sink, he hurried upstairs to shower and change.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles was startled awake by his dad's voice and he pushed himself up, groaned at the stiffness in his back from the insane position he'd been sleeping in. The clearing of his dad's throat had Stiles turning to look at the man, only to receive an amused look and a nod, frowning, Stiles lifted his hand, wincing with embarrassment as he peeled a sheet of paper off his cheek.

"It's good to see that you're focused on school work for a change." His dad said, smiling; though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I've been worried about you, Stiles." He stepped into the room, perching on the end of the bed and looking down at his son, "I don't know what's been happening the past year but…"

Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line, "Dad…"

"No," John Stilinski sighed, rubbing at his eyes, "I know things have been difficult, and you've been through a lot the past year, with Matt and everything. – I know it must have been hard not to…" he looked away, unable to meet his son's eyes, "I can only imagine how it felt, knowing you could have stopped him before anyone got hurt, but…"

Stiles gritted his teeth as he gathered the papers and carried them over to his desk, "I know the rules." He said tightly, "No one can know." Except Derek knew and Stiles wondered what his dad would say if he told him that.

"It's for your own safety Stiles."

Stiles couldn't help but scoff. His own safety, it hadn't been so safe when Matt had a gun pointed at him, and he could have so easily disarmed the psycho, or when Gerard Argent was kicking the hell out of him. "Yeah." He finally muttered, turning his back on his dad.

"And I know it can't be easy keeping it from Scott."

Stiles closed his eyes and exhaled, "Weirdly, keeping it from Scott has never been a problem." He whispered.

"What was that?" John pressed.

"Nothing Dad," Stiles turned to looked at his old man, "Is there something you need, because I have plans."

John stiffened, narrowing his eyes at him, "Plans? With Scott?"

Stiles sighed, "I told you dad, me and Scott, we're not friends anymore."

John's features tensed, and Stiles knew he knew exactly who his dad was expecting him to say he had plans with. "Oh, so who…"

"Jackson, Lydia and Isaac." He said, truthfully. – Well, half a truth was better than no truth, right?

"Jackson?" his dad frowned, "Jackson Whittemore? Since when were you friends with…"

"I never said we were friends," Stiles dismissed, "But he's Lydia's boyfriend and I'm friends with Lydia,"

John nodded, "And Isaac?"

"He's just tagging along." Stiles shrugged. _Only lies have detail_ , he told himself.

"Oh, okay." The man got to his feet, "Where are you going?"

 _Shit_. Stiles shrugged, "Probably just hang out at someone's house. Lydia's probably." He quickly added when his dad looked at him in that way he did whenever Derek was brought up in conversation. Suspicious and wary.

His dad stared at him for a moment, and knew the man wasn't fooled, which just made him feel worse. It would be so much easier if he could just tell him the truth, the whole truth. That there were werewolves and hunters, kanimas and virgin sacrificing god-knows-whats in the world. That Stiles was trying to keep the town safe from the worst of the supernatural, just as his dad was trying to keep the town safe from the worst of humanity. Maybe if his dad knew there were freakier freaks out there, then maybe he'd stop looking at Stiles like he was one.

"Well, just stay together." His dad said finally, turning to leave.

"Oh, Dad!" Stiles called.

"Yes Stiles?"

"Was…" he looked at the map briefly, brows knitted, "As another body been called in?"

John stared at him for a moment, following his sons gaze to the wall, "No. – Stiles, I don't want you sniffing around this one, it's too dangerous."

Stiles opened his mouth to remind him that he could take care of himself and inform him that he'd survived worse. What he ended up saying was, "I'm just trying to help."

John rubbed at his eyes, "I don't need your help Stiles, I am capable of doing my job." He snapped, shooting his son a tired, withering look before leaving, yanking the bedroom door closed behind him.

Stiles dropped down on the desk chair and dragged both his hands through his hair, his chest aching at the growing distance and resentment that was settling between him and his father.

_(*-*)_/

Derek pushed the trolley along the aisle, his gaze flickering from one shelf to the other. Shopping have never been his favorite chore growing up, and that was with a list from his mother. Now, he had nothing but his own initiative to rely on. He had no idea what Isaac even ate. For the six months Isaac had been under his care, they'd pretty much been eating nothing but takeout, seeing as they'd been living out of a warehouse, with no amenities. The only person Derek could accurately buy food for was Stiles, and only because he never seemed to stop eating, or at least that's how it had felt for the two months they'd been working on the house.

He knew Stiles loved curly fries, burgers, Cheetos and Reece cups, and he drank soda like it was going out of fashion. Also, a lot of milk, but that had more to do with his condition than his actual love of the substance.

With that in mind, Derek turned the corner, heading for the fridge and grunted as the trolley collided with another. He looked up and looked apologetically at the dark-haired woman, "Sorry."

She shook her head, smiling, "It was my fault," she said shyly, "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Neither was I." Derek smiled apologetically.

The woman flushed, looking away and pushing her hair behind her ear before meeting his gaze again, "I'm Jennifer. Jennifer Blake." She said quietly.

Derek blinked, "Uh, Derek. Hale." He clarified, reaching out to shake the hand she'd stretched out to him.

"I'm kind of new in town," she said, smiling lopsidedly at him.

"Oh?" Derek nodded, uncertain, "Well welcome to Beacon Hills."

"Thank you." Jennifer grinned brightly. "So…" she hurriedly continues, clearly seeing Derek's impatience to leave the conversation. "…what do people do for fun around here?"

Derek cleared his throat, gaze flicking past her for a moment, "I don't know, I don't really…go out."

"Oh?" her face fell a little, "You and your girlfriend are the stay at home types then."

Derek wasn't sure whether to feel irritated or amused at the blatant way she was trying to discover if he was taken and suddenly Stiles came to mind, along with the disgust he felt at himself.

 _"Also, maybe you know, get out there. Date someone."_ He remembered Stiles saying, _"…move on. Get out there. Meet someone new."_ He looked back at the woman, Jennifer. She seemed nice enough, sweet. He liked the way her lips curled up at the corner shyly. He'd never dated any one shy before, always being drawn to self-confidence and strength of will. – And look where that had gotten him. "I…" he stammered, "I don't have a girlfriend. I… just don't really get the opportunity to socialize."

Jennifer smiled again, "Well…if… I mean would you like… if you'd like to get a drink sometime."

Derek's gut tightened at the idea, his every instinct telling him to refuse. " _Date someone."_ Stiles' voice whispered again, and Derek took a breath, squaring his shoulders. What's the worst that could happen? "Sure, that sounds…yeah."

Jennifer grinned, "How about tonight?"

"Uh, I…" he looked down at the trolley and the food. He'd planned on making a pack dinner, "I just of have…family plans tonight." He watched her face fall and hurried to reassure her he wasn't brushing her off, "How about Friday?"

Jennifer looked a little uncertain at first, before beaming at him. "That would be lovely," she reached into the bag hanging across her chest, pulling out a pen and paper. "Here's my number," she said, handing him the small sheet, "Call me."

Derek took the paper and looked down at the row of numbers, "Yeah." He nodded, looking up at her, "I… I've got to go."

She laughed softly, nodded her head enthusiastically, "I should probably leave too." She licked her lips before saying goodbye and then skirted her trolley around his and strolled away. Derek looked over his shoulder and caught her smiling back at him.

When she turned down one of the aisles, he stared at the phone number with a heavy weight of regret. He didn't really want to date, he had too much on his hands at the moment, between looking for Erica and Boyd, and helping Stiles figure out what was killing virgins. – But, Stiles was always right, right? Which means if he thinks it's time for Derek to move on and date someone, someone who isn't a seventeen-year-old high school student, then…maybe he should do that.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles stepped out of the woodland, sweat peppering his forehead from the lingering summer heat. It was still too soon to call it an Indian summer, but he had a feeling that was exactly what they were going to have.

The front of the house seemed to glow in the morning sunlight, like a beacon calling him close. _The beacon of Beacon Hills,_ he smirked to himself. Looking around, Stiles smile grew wider when he noticed that neither Lydia or Jackson's car was parked up outside, but then…neither was Derek's, which brought a frown to his face. There was no way Derek had forgotten that he'd intended to come out her today, or that he'd insisted on walking.

Taking the steps two at a time, Stiles knocked on the front door, straining his hearing to listen for movement inside, exhaling the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he caught the sound of feet on the steps. A second later, the door was yanked open and a sleepy looking Isaac stared at him for a second, as if confused to see him, and then turned to march away. "Derek isn't here." He said over his shoulder, voice rough with sleep.

Stiles followed him, pushing the door closed, "Where is he?"

"Said he was going to the store." Isaac sighed, yanking open the refrigerator, only to sigh and close it again. "Thank god."

Stiles watched the beta move over to the sink, fill a glass with water and gulp it down. He repeated the action three times more before leaving the glass in the sink and turning to look at him. "What about Jackson?" and Isaac shrugged in answer.

They stood there in a tense silence, just watching each other, before Isaac finally broke it with, "Does Scott know?" he asked, "Whatever it is you are." As if needing to clarify.

Stiles stiffened at the question, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and dropping his gaze to the floor. "N-no." he replied weakly, shaking his head.

"But Derek does?"

Stiles shrugged his shoulder, not wanting to answer that question because he knew how bad it would sound. He hadn't told his best friend, but he'd told Derek. – Except he hadn't, not really, right? Derek had kind of found out on his own, by accident.

Isaac didn't say anything more, pushing himself off the counter, and leaving the kitchen. Stiles remained where he was, his butt perched on the edge of the table. He stared down at his feet guiltily. He knew he'd have to tell Scott. With Isaac and Jackson both aware there was something different about him, he had little choice. It was just a matter of how much to tell him. Could he risk telling him the truth? He didn't plan on telling either Isaac or Jackson, he'd spent some of the previous night coming up with a vague explanation for why he was able to kick Jackson's ass across Derek's back lawn. The best he could come up with, was that his ancestors were…something. They didn't need details.

The sound of a car brought Stiles out of his head, and he pushed himself off the table. Isaac was nowhere to be seen, but tilting his head, Stiles could hear him moving around upstairs, and sighed. He headed out to the front porch, folding his arms over his chest as he watched the SUV pull to a stop, and Jackson leap out of the passenger seat, Derek following a few seconds later.

Instead of heading to the back with Derek, Jackson marched towards Stiles, lip curving coldly, "You ready Stilinski?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, "Wouldn't think you'd be so eager to get your ass kicked Jackson." He smirked, skipping down the stairs past Jackson and over to help Derek with the bags. "Morning." He said to Derek, grabbing three large paper bags with ease, "Hungry?"

"There's no food in the house." Derek said by way of explanation, and strolled away, leaving the boot open.

Stiles grinned brightly as he followed the alpha into the house, ignoring the challenging, impatient stare of Jackson's blue eyes, and the arrogant curl of his lip. Oh, how he was going to enjoy wiping that smug look of the beta's face.

In the kitchen, he dropped the bags on the counter and ripped, letting the food tumble out. "Wow, you really went to town."

"Can't keep living on takeout." Derek said, carrying food to stack in the cupboards.

"Yay for you," Stiles grinned, handing over a large bottle of milk, "new house, new start." He nodded approvingly.

"New alpha." Derek agreed, smiling back at him as he put the milk in the refrigerator.

"Man, you…really like milk?" Stiles gasped, lifting yet another large bottle.

"It's more of a precaution." Derek replied meaningfully, taking it from Stiles and slipping it in beside the other bottle.

Stiles stared at him. _A precaution?_ Had Derek seriously just brought a shit ton of milk for…him? In case he had… no way.

"Stiles?" Derek frowned.

"Oh, uh…thanks." He said quietly, eyes locked with Derek's as his heart raced, and he licked his lips.

"You brought food?" Isaac announced, startling the pair of them out of their staring contest.

Derek's head snapped around, "I…told you I was going to the grocery store." He huffed, marching over to the counter.

"Yeah, but I didn't expect…" he gestured to the counter.

Stiles looked over to see the surprised look on Isaac's face, something flickering behind his eyes that reminded him of the first time his dad had made dinner after his mom's death, when Stiles finally accepted that they were going to survive the loss. His heart clenched at the memory, and just what that meant for Derek and Isaac.

"Are we going to do this?" Jackson announced, appearing behind Isaac in the doorway.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and sighed warily. "Fine, if you're so desperate to get your ass handed to you, let's go."

"Stiles." Derek called, tugging on his upper arm, waiting for Jackson and Isaac to vanish out the back door before continuing, "Are you sure you want to do this? They'll be no going back." He whispered.

Stiles looked into the green concerned gaze, then over to the empty doorway, "I have to," he said quietly, "He'll never quit if I don't."

Derek nodded, regrettably, "What about your arm?" he nodded to the cast.

"Arms healed," he reminded Derek with a smile, "I promise not to use it to break Jackson's face, too badly." He winked, and Derek chuckled softly, finally withdrawing his hand from Stiles arm, where they'd both forgotten it.

Derek shook his head, "Alright," he followed Stiles, leaving the remaining non-perishable items on the counter, "It'll be good for him, it might actually make him listen to me when I tell him he needs to train."

Stiles couldn't help but turn and fix Derek with a wide grin, "Not that it helped you," he laughed,

Derek narrowed his gaze at the teenager, and smirked when Stiles tripped backwards over his own feet, "It was a fluke."

Getting his balance and stepping out into the warm afternoon sunlight, he scoffed, "Sure it was."

Jackson was stripped down to his skin and shifted when Stiles scurried down the steps. Stiles rolled his eyes as Jackson flexed his muscles and rolled his shoulders, like he'd just stepped out of a bad Chuck Norris movie. Looking up to where Derek was leaning against the railing of the porch, arms folded over his chest, Isaac stood uncertainly next to him, looking back and forth between them, Stiles huffed out a laugh, catching the alpha's eyes.

Turning back to Jackson, Stiles unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off, tossing it up to Derek without breaking eye contact with his opponent, he then reached for the back of his t-shirt and dragged it over his head, tossing it in the same direction. He heard it hit the floor and glanced over, frowning as Derek bent to retrieve it. There was a sudden redness to the alpha's face that hadn't been there before, and Stiles forced back the spark of hope at the idea his naked chest had put it there. It wasn't as if Derek hadn't seen him shirtless before. Hell, he'd seen him naked as the day he was born not six months ago.

Stiles felt his own face heat and quickly averted his eyes back to an impatient Jackson, who was hopping from one foot to the other, fingers curling and uncurling at his side, claws extended. There was a look of blood lust in the beta's gaze that on any other opponent probably would have made their blood run cold, but on Stiles it just made him smirk wider and bury his feet into the dirt.

The pair stared at each other for a long moment before finally Jackson rushed at him. Stiles waited, arms raised in preparation for the contact.

Jackson sped towards him suddenly, but Stiles kept the werewolf in his sights so that the moment he was in arm's length he brought his fist around hard to connect with the guy's jaw, sending Jackson staggering to the right, shocked.

The look in the jackass' face was priceless but Stiles didn't allow himself to gloat, there'd be plenty of time for that later, instead he focused his vision on the roll of Jackson's shoulders and the curve of his back, waiting for the guy to turn and then he rushed forward, before Jackson was fully able to regain his bearings. Stiles swung at his jaw again, knocking him to the left once more, before bringing his cast around to crash against the side of Jackson's head, just above his ear.

Jackson staggered forward, shaking his head and letting out angry growl, but Stiles didn't retreat, if Jackson wanted proof that Stiles could prevail in a fight, then so be it.

"What's wrong Jackson?" Stiles said, voice steady, "realizing you're not as light on your feet as you used to be?" he scoffed, delivering a brutal kick to Jackson's back before aiming another at the werewolf's knee, causing him to collapse forward into the dirt.

Jackson roared, eyes glowing blue in fury and frustration, as he twisted his head around, swiftly followed by his body and rushing for Stiles once more.

This time, he swerved right when Stiles moved to punch him, ducking behind him and swiping at his back, but Stiles was quicker, twisting his own body to avoid the attack at the last moment. He gripped Jackson's wrist as it swung away and brought the cast down hard across the bone. The snap vibrated up Stiles own arm.

Jackson roared and brought his good arm around, grabbing at Stiles throat before Stiles had a chance to jerk out of the way. He squeezed hard, getting to his feet, his broken arm hanging loose at his side.

Beyond the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears, Stiles heard Derek ordering Jackson to stop, but neither of them was in any right mind to walk away from this fight yet.

Jackson lifted him off his feet, glaring up at him with bared teeth and bright blue eyes. Stiles focused his attention on his next move and not on the way his lungs were struggling to refill, or the way Jackson's claws were breaking into his flesh, drawing a warm trickle of blood to roll down his back.

With his hand wrapped around Jackson's wrist, Stiles used it as leverage, swinging his legs back then forward and up to wrap around Jackson's neck, forcing his arm back into an awkward position.

Stiles didn't let go however, twisting his center of gravity and throwing them both into the dirt. Jackson's head slammed into the ground and Stiles felt the pop of the beta's shoulder disconnect. Squeezing his thighs tight around Jackson's throat, Stiles yanked on the arm, dragging yet another agonising cry from the werewolf.

"Stiles!" Growled Derek loudly in his ear, and the teenager startled at the feel of clawed fingers around his throat, pulling him back, "Enough! You've made your point."

Stiles blinked, his vision clearing as the red mist faded away, leaving him with the cold reality of a trembling and pale Jackson between his legs, arm bent in a stomach churning position. He let go instantly and scrambled back away from the prone beta.

Derek crouched at Jackson's side, examining his injuries and easing his pain as best he could, "You'll be alright," he reassured, "we just need to get your shoulder back in place." He carefully helped Jackson to his feet and half dragged him back to the house.

At the steps, Derek paused, looking back to Stiles, "You too. You need to see to those cuts."

Stiles stared at him, head buzzing. It was the first time he'd ever used what his mother had taught him on an actual person. – Except for that one time with Derek, but that hadn't been much of a fight and he hadn't really let go and embrace the power he had inside him, he'd just wanted to stay alive. This however, this had been a calculated fight and Stiles had thrived, become intoxicated with what his body could do. How naturally strong and fast he was. If Jackson hadn't been a werewolf, he'd have inflicted some serious damage. Life threatening damage.

Stiles stared down at his trembling hands and gasped at the feel of a warm hand on his bare shoulder. Looking up he met Derek's concerned, watchful gaze. "You okay?" he asked, cautiously, his gaze flickering down to where Stiles hands were shaking.

Stiles inhaled deeply, huffing a humourless laugh, "I… - I guess I showed him." He sobered, staring down at the dent in his cast from the impact with Jackson's skull. There was a joke playing at the back of his mind, but Stiles couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Yeah," Derek said quietly, his hand massaging Stiles shoulder, "and now he'll think twice before judging a book by its cover." He smirked, softly, and Stiles looked up at him, his heart skipping a beat and he licked his lips. The air vanished from his lungs and his eyes dropped to the alpha's mouth. So close, so…

Derek pulled away, getting back to his feet, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and cut that thing off?" he nodded towards Stiles cast.

"I've still got four weeks," Stiles said, as he was getting to his feet.

"You said it was healed," Derek said uncertainly, leading Stiles back into the house, keeping a wide berth.

Stiles sighed, "It is." He nodded, "but people will wonder if I turn up to school…"

Derek paused on the threshold, turning to look at him, lip curling, "They'll wonder more if you turn up with it looking like that."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry if the fight between Jackson and Stiles didn't stand up to expectation, writing fight scenes are one of the hardest things for me. I hope the chapter wasn't that dull, I know it's another filler, sorry.**


	9. Out

**Out**

Friday nights used to be game night for him and Scott, then they'd kind of became running-for-your-life night. Now though, with Scott off doing his own thing, and his dad still buried elbow deep in trying to find the virgin killer, that Stiles was pretty much on his lonesome. Which is how he ends up stood at Derek's front door, takeout, popcorn and the Grease boxset in his hand.

He knocked on the door, waiting impatiently out in the dim evening sunlight. His foot tapped against the wooden boards of the porch, his hearing straining to listen for any movement in the house. The Camaro was gone, as was the Volvo, but Stiles hadn't paid much attention to that, as he'd pulled up. Too eager to get into the house and tease Derek with the DVD's, now though he frowned. He knocked again, despite already knowing the house was empty, before dragging himself back down the porch steps. At the bottom he paused, looking up at the windows, as if expecting to see Derek looking out, but they were dark, the sunlight bouncing off the polished glass. With a deep sigh, Stiles turned away and began his long trek back to town.

_(*-*)_/

"A date?" Stiles gaped, looking from Lydia to Jackson, then back again.

Jackson shrugged, leaning back in the chair like he owned it, without a care in the world, and rolling his eyes. Lydia sat beside him, eyes focused on a book, seemingly completely oblivious to the conversation going on around her.

"How do you know he was on a date?" Stiles demanded, "Did Isaac tell you?"

Jackson scoffed, shaking his head, "Hardly," his gaze flickered across the dining hall to where Isaac sat with Scott, heads bent together. Stiles looked over his shoulder briefly, then turned his attention back as Jackson continued, "We drove past the Firefly, saw him."

Stiles shrugged, "So, he went for a drink,"

Jackson's lip curled, and he leant forward, eyes intense as they locked on Stiles, "Yeah, with a woman." he said with pleasure, "Saw them at a table, all smiles and laughter. Trust me, I know what a date looks like," he scoffed.

Stiles tore his gaze from Jackson's and stared down at his tray, chewing at the inside of his lip. So, Derek had a date, big deal. He'd told him he should get out there, hadn't he? He should be happy that Derek was taking his advice, and yet..."Who was it?" He heard himself ask quietly.

When Jackson didn't answer, Stiles lifted his gaze to find Jackson's attention elsewhere. Turning once again in his seat he regarded just what Jackson was staring at.

Ethan and Aiden Berrisford had just started at Beacon Hills high school, which instantly meant they were the focus of everyone's attention for one reason or another. He'd seen Danny and Lydia checking them out, which obviously meant Jackson disliked them, seeing as his ego insisted that he and he alone be the object of his girlfriend and best friend's lustful attentions.

Stiles of course disliked them because he was paranoid. That two knew students had arrived in Beacon Hills at the same time as someone was killing virgins, was more than enough to get his Spidey senses tingling, but as it turned out, according to Jackson and Isaac, they were also werewolves.

Stiles watched the pair move through the cafeteria, fellow students parting like the red sea, naturally cautious of them. When they got their food, they made themselves comfortable at a table and Stiles shifted awkwardly when the pairs eyes focused on them. Jackson let out a low growl under his breath and moved to rise out if his chair. Stiles hand shot out to grip Jackson's wrist and hold him in his seat, "Don't," he warned, "not here."

Jackson glared at him, but Stiles met it head on, his fingers tightening. For the first time since they'd taken a seat, Lydia looked up from her books, green eyes flickering between Stiles and her boyfriend before turning to regard the twins across the room. One of them grinned at her, all his pearly white teeth on show, and winked. It took all Stiles strength to hold Jackson down, so much so he felt the bone cracking under his palm.

Lydia turned back and fixed Stiles with a look half way between uncertain and tired. Sighing, Stiles got to his feet and grabbed his apple and soda, "Come on, we're leaving." He ordered, looking to Jackson, fully expecting an argument. Instead the beta got up, slipped his arm around Lydia's shoulder and steered her away from the table, following Stiles.

As they passed Scott and Isaac, Stiles looked at them both, a silent message to be careful.

_(*-*)_/

"You're sure they're werewolves?" Derek asked, twisting his head to regard Stiles in the passenger seat.

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, "Jackson and Isaac can't both be wrong,"

Derek frowned, his fingers drumming the steering wheel as he drove Stiles home. He'd text Stiles Sunday afternoon and asked if he needed a ride to and from school, seeing as he was driving Isaac. Stiles had obviously jumped at the chance, anything was better than taking the bus. Now though it was just the two of them, Isaac having gone off with Scott.

It wasn't jealousy, not by a long shot, okay maybe there was a little jealousy, but Stiles couldn't help but feel a little pissed at Isaac for spending so much time with Scott, especially with everything going on. The thing was, Stiles feared what Scott was saying to the beta. He could to help but worry that Scott was trying to...steal Isaac away from Derek. Maybe even start his own pack? Could an omega start a pack? Would that make him an alpha? There was still so much Stiles didn't know. So much he wanted to ask but was somewhat afraid of the answers.

However, he knew Derek was worrying about the same thing. He'd seen the man's face when Isaac had strolled up to him and said he was going to study with Scott, his lanky body almost folded in on itself, as if he thought Derek was going to last out and drag him home. Stiles prayed that e reaction had more to do with Mr. Lahey's treatment of his son and less to do with Scott whispering in his ear.

It was hard to believe that once he'd have never believed his best friend capable of such a thing, but...times change and so regretfully do people.

Derek of course had just nodded, muttered that he should call him to pick him up, or to let him know he was on his way, then climbed into the SUV and waited for Stiles to clamber in next to him. Stiles had brought up the twins just to ease the tension as they'd driven away from the high school.

"Did they say anything?" Derek asked, taking a left on main street.

"No, I think they're trying to steal your crown as town bad boy, all brooding and intimidating." Stiles scoffed, rummaging in his bad for the packet of Reece cups he'd stashed away between classes.

Derek did his Muttly grumble and Stiles grinned into his bag. "So, nothing happened?"

Stiles pulled the orange packet free with a triumphant hoot, and ripped the wrapper before replying, "Jackson almost ripped one of their heads off for smiling at Lydia?" He stated, shoving a cup in his mouth.

Derek's head shot around, "What?" He demanded angrily.

"Calm down big guy, I said almost, as in he almost got out of his chair, stomped over there and ripped the guy's head off, and if I hadn't been there that is exactly what he would have done, but I defused the situation."

Derek raised a disbelieving brow at him, "You did?" He smirked.

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm practically an expert at defusing situations involving irrational werewolf anger."

"Hmmhmm," Derek chuckled, "I'm just surprised he listened."

Stiles shrugged, "What can I say, clearly I should have broken everyone's arms a year ago, because that's apparently the only way to get any of you to take me seriously." there was a bitterness to Stiles words that put him off his candy, and he held out the last remaining cup to Derek, "Here. I've lost my appetite."

Derek side-eyed the chocolate before taking it, "I've always taken you seriously Stiles, at least where this stuff is concerned," he waved his hand in the air, gesturing at nothing in particular,

"Car maintenance?" Stiles asked with a straight face, and Derek sighed, rolling his eyes and slipping the Reece's cup into his mouth, "You've got instincts, good instincts, I've always known that. It's why I came to you more than I went to Scott."

"My good instincts almost got you arrested for your sister's murder." Stiles pointed out with a smirk.

Derek stared at him for a long moment, before jerking a shoulder, "Nobody's perfect," he chuckled.

Stiles stared at the alpha's profile, watching the way his eyes crinkled softly, only to falter a second later as the smile faded, and Stiles wondered what had suddenly killed that thousand-watt smile. "Derek?"

"Hmm," he huffed, the muscle in his jaw working as he ground his teeth.

"You okay?"

"Fine." Derek replied, voice low and thick, as if struggling to hold something at bay. "Just a…a joke, it doesn't matter, forget it."

Stiles frowned, his gaze never leaving the man's features. He'd never seen anyone look so shattered at a poorly received joke before, it set his instincts on edge. Replaying what was said over and over in his head, trying to figure out what he'd missed.

Derek clearly knew what he was doing, because he exhaled a wary sigh and muttered, "It's a movie quote, it's really not important."

"Look on your face says otherwise," Stiles replied quietly, eyes still fixed on the alpha.

Derek turned his face, glancing briefly out of the window as they passed the diner, "Do you want to grab something to eat?"

Stiles smiled, "Sure."

Turning the SUV into the parking lot, the pair headed inside. Stiles marching over to their usual booth while Derek ordered. It took longer than usual for Derek to get served, due to the place being filled with Stiles fellow students. When Derek slid into the booth, Stiles wasted no time tucking into his curly fries.

"My mom used to love old movies," Derek said unexpectedly.

Stiles looked up through his lashes, a fry hanging from his mouth, Derek smiled, shaking his head, "We used to have movie nights, just me and my mom."

Stiles swallowed, eyes never leaving the man in front of him. He pressed his lips into a thin line and waited for Derek to say more.

"Sometimes Cora would join us, but she was still young, so she'd usually fall asleep in the first five minutes," he huffed a laugh, fingers fussing aimlessly with his own fries. "The quote," he said, meeting Stiles eyes, "It was from Some Like It Hot, one of my mom's favorites. Whenever we'd do something wrong, she always said _'Well, nobody's perfect'_ , then she'd ground us for a week," he laughed, and it was so genuine and sad that Stiles had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat and inhale deeply to stop tears from pooling in his eyes.

"She loved old back and white films, and musicals."

"Grease?" Stiles muttered softly, the corner of his lips turning up.

Derek nodded, "I'd considered doing a course in film when I graduated, but then…" he reached for his soda, taking a long sip. When he set it back down, he went back to fiddling with the fries, still not moving to eat one. "I… - I haven't watched an old movie since the fire, it kind of feels like an extra betrayal."

Stiles nodded understandingly, "I get that. You feel wrong for enjoying something when they're not here to enjoy it too."

"Yeah. – Nick took me to a movie festival once, early on. I think he got the idea from Laura. They were showing a double bill, It Happened One Night and Some Like It Hot. I didn't get past the opening credits, I walked out. Nick was confused. It took me a week to build up the…courage to tell him about mom and movies, and he was so mad,"

"What?" Stiles gaped, anger flooding him.

"At Laura." Derek quickly clarified, "They had a huge fight."

"I should hope so, man," Stiles muttered, nodding animatedly, "Why the hell would she think you'd enjoy that."

Derek watched his fingers, "She said she thought it would help. Said I couldn't stop doing stuff just because mom wasn't there to do it with."

Stiles gritted his teeth. Having never met Laura, alive anyway, he'd kind of build up a picture of the woman in his head. The perfect big sister, protective. Wrapping Derek in cotton wool and bubble wrap, scaring off bullies and possible suitors. – As it turned out, he was wrong.

"She didn't get it, because she didn't know. About Kate. About what I'd done. Watching those movies," he shook his head, "It's like I'm taunting her."

Stiles reached out without really thinking, grabbing Derek's hand and squeezing it, "You can't keep blaming yourself, dude. You know that. – Your mom, what would she say if she were here? Do you really think she'd hate you, or…" he swallowed, tightening his fingers a little more, "or would she say, _Nobody's perfect_?"

Derek's eyes lifted from where he was staring at Stiles hand, to his eyes. The green orbs shimmering with tears, and the man's throat working convulsively to dislodge a large lump of pain, regret and heartbreak.

They sat there in silence, just staring at each other, until a crash from behind the counter burst the bubble. Stiles yanked his hand back, face going read, he hurriedly shoveled cold fries into his mouth and stared out the window. He didn't look at Derek until he'd swallowed and gotten himself under control. Turning back, he found Derek staring down at his burger as if it had created a crime against him by being cold.

"uh, so…I hear you had a date Friday." Stiles blurted, grabbing up his soda and replacing the words with his straw.

Derek looked up, surprised. "Uh…how'd you...? Who told you that?"

Stiles took a last long suck, inhaling through his nose before answering, "Jackson said he saw you at the Firefly with some woman."

Derek flushed, "Oh, yes."

Stiles nodded, "Good. That's good man, really." He insisted, grinning, "I said you needed to get out there, so this is great news. – Who is she?" he asked, his leg bouncing under the table.

"Just some woman I met in the grocery store."

Stiles snorted, "Smooth. Does she have a name?"

Derek raised a brow at him, "Why do you want to know?"

Stiles' stared at him, amused, "Because friends want to know what to call their friends new girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend, we had one date."

Stiles sighed dramatically, "You scared her off with your broody eyebrows and silence, didn't you?"

"No!" Derek snapped, irritated, "Actually she asked me out again."

Stiles smirked, "she asked you out?"

"Welcome to the 21st Century Stiles? Girls can ask a guy out now, you know."

Stiles hands flew up defensively, "Just kidding, man." He sighed, shrugging, "I-I'm just jealous."

"Jealous?" Derek replied, voice tight and eyes wide, "Of…?"

Stiles stared down at his half-eaten meal, "Not having anyone to spend my Friday nights with." He slumped back in the booth, fingers tearing strips from the napkin, "It didn't used to bother me, 'because I kept holding on to my five-year plan…"

"Five-year plan?" Derek frowned.

"To get Lydia to fall in love with me." He huffed a dismissive laugh, "but it's clear now that I haven't got a shot with her."

"You don't know that?" Derek mumbled, "Her and Jackson aren't going to last forever?"

Stiles looked up through his lashes, lip curving, "What, you're telling me werewolves don't mate for life?"

Derek rolled his eyes, "No, we don't mate for life."

"Man, Scott's going to be crushed," he laughed, then brushed it off, "Doesn't matter, even if Lydia and Jackson broke up tomorrow, she wouldn't want me. I'm the guy next door, you know? The dorky best friend, everyone turns to with their problems who never gets the hot girlfriend. – Or boyfriend," he added on a sigh.

"Her loss." Derek stated certainly, "Someday Stiles, someone will see just how great you are."

Stiles met his gaze, oxygen leaving his lungs. "Uh…" he licked his lips. "I…thanks."

Derek shrugged, "Finished?"

Stiles nodded, "Yeah." They slid out of the booth and headed for the door, tossing the rubbish in the trashcan as they passed. "So, what are you going to do about the twins?" he asked once they were settled back in the SUV.

Derek paused in starting the engine, staring thoughtfully out the window at the diner, "I… I want to know more about them before I approach. It would be stupid going in blind," he turned to regard Stiles, "Can you do a little detective work?"

Stiles grinned from ear to ear, "I thought you'd never ask. Drop me off at the station."

With a nod, Derek started the engine and pulled away from the diner.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles strolled into the station like he owned the place, grinning at Rebekah on the desk, before stepping through the partition and heading back to his father's office. He smiled at a few of the officers, asked how they were, "How's the family, Jeff." He called to an old guy who'd been there longer than his dad. Stiles figured his dad just couldn't bring himself to let him go, so stuck him on desk duty.

After what went down with Matt before the summer break there were a few new faces, people he was still getting to know, like Parrish. Handsome guy in his late twenties, blond hair, blue eyes. Cliché small town hero, everyone's favorite, except he wasn't born and raised in Beacon Hills. For some reason, Stiles still couldn't fathom, he'd moved to town over the summer. According to his dad, the guy was a veteran and was looking to maintain the order in his life but didn't want the stresses of a large city. – Stiles had smirked when his dad said that, because there was nothing more stressful than Beacon Hills, or more dangerous.

"Are you sure she's missing?" Parrish said quietly.

"Yes." A rough voice snapped angrily, and Stiles stared at the older man. He recognized him from town, but there was something in the back of Stiles mind, some distant memory he couldn't quite reach.

Parrish nodded, scribbling information on a piece of paper, "Should I notify the state authorities?" he asked, and Stiles frowned, surely he'd learnt the procedure by now.

Stiles stared at them and they seemed to sense his gaze because both men looked up, eyes locking with his.

"Stiles," the old man greeted with a nod.

"Mr. Tate." Stiles replied with a smile, "Everything okay?"

"Fine, Stiles." Parrish dismissed, "Everything is under control. Your dad's in his office."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the deputy, "Thanks," before he turned to leave them to it, he couldn't help but remind Deputy Parrish, "If you've got a missing minor, you need to put out an Amber Alert."

Parrish bristled, chest puffing out, "I'm aware, thank you."

"Just trying to help, you being new and all." He chuckled, marching away. He strained his hearing though, listening into the conversation behind him.

" _That boy's too much like his mother,"_ Mr. Tate huffed.

" _I wouldn't remember,"_ Parrish said softly, and Stiles froze, turning back to look at the desk as the two men bowed their heads together, _"Do you want me to put out an Amber Alert? It'll mean…"_

" _No."_ Mr. Tate shook his head, _"I don't want to risk it, just keep your ear to the ground, okay?"_

" _Will do. You going to put the word out?"_

" _Already done."_

Stiles stared, heart galloping like a race horse in the Kentucky Derby. They knew his mom? Parrish knew his mom? How? Okay, what the hell? Like he didn't have enough to deal with right now, with virgin killers and newbie werewolf twins, not to mention Derek's new found dating life, - Okay, so that really wasn't any of his business, but still…a lot was going on.

He inhales sharply at the memory of Isaac and the mysterious woman on the bike. His hand started to shake, and he bit hard into his lower lip to try and calm down. Then the door opened behind him causing him to let out a loud yelp of surprise, drawing everyone's attention, even Parrish and Mr. Tate.

"Stiles?"

"Dad," He greeted, turning breathlessly to regard his father with a wide shaky smile, "Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

"I uh…thought I'd come see if you wanted to grab dinner."

John stepped aside and waved his son into the office, closing the door behind him, "What are you really doing here?" he demanded.

"What? Can't a son have dinner with his dad?" Stiles ranted, "I've barely seen you since this business started," he waved his hand at his father's pin board.

John observed him intensely, "I wish I could believe that was why you were here," he sighed, strolling around the desk and taking a seat, "but considering how secretive you've been lately, not to mention the trouble you keep finding yourself in the middle off, I just can't. – So, if you're hear for something, just tell me." He rubbed tiredly at his eyes and Stiles fell into the chair, his chest tightening with regret.

"Dad, I swear, I just want to have dinner." He lied, and was grateful his dad wasn't a werewolf, so he can't hear it.

John looked at him, gaze flickering around his face, "Okay Stiles," he finally breathed, "Dinner would be good, just give me an hour, I've got to run out to the old warehouses on the other side of town." He got to his feet, and stepped back around the desk, heading for the door, "You okay to wait around?"

Stiles fixed a calm smile on his face, "Yeah," and tried to ignore the loud screaming voice in the back of his mind telling him to leave, that he'd just promised his dad he was there for him and he should keep that promise. The information on the twins can wait, right? It's not important. He could call in a favor with Danny, or sneak Derek back into the school again.

"Okay, an hour." John shrugged into his jacket, and stared at his desk for a second, before leaving Stiles alone.

_(*-*)_/

"They're emancipated minors." Stiles said into his phone, reading from his note book. It would have been easier to just print it out, but the less proof he'd hacked his father's work computer the better.

It had been hard enough sitting across from him the Jamieson's family restaurant crumbling under the weight of guilt and pretending everything was just fine. That he hadn't just betrayed his father's trust. Again.

" _Do you know where they're staying?"_

"The Motel just outside of town, according to the records."

"I see." Derek hummed thoughtfully, "Where are they from, does it say?"

"The paper work is all registered in San Francisco. Though that doesn't necessarily mean that's where they're from."

"Family?"

"Says their parents are dead. There's a death certificate for an Eliza Berrisford, but that's about all."

Derek made that thoughtful noise again, _"I've never heard of Berrisford, but I wasn't exactly being taught the ropes growing up,"_ he quietened for a second, _"I'll look into them, go search the motel, see what I can pick up. I've told Isaac and Jackson to keep an eye on them, but not to engage with them until we're sure they can be trusted."_

"Good idea," Stiles agreed, nodding to his empty bedroom.

" _Okay. I'll pick you up at 7."_

"Derek," Stiles said quickly, needing to stop him before he hung up.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, sounding suddenly worried, and it lit a warm fire in Stiles cold chest.

"Nothing, I mean…" he took a breath, swing his pen between his fingers, "I want… - I want to tell dad."

"Tell him what?" Derek asked, the frown clear in his tone.

"About you, about all of it, werewolves, hunters, kanimas. – That these murders might be something supernatural. – Derek I can't keep…"

"Fine." Derek said, cutting him off.

Stiles frowned, pulling the cell from his hear and staring down at the screen for a moment, before lifting it again, "What did you say?"

"I said fine." Derek sighed, "You need to tell your dad, then tell him."

"And you're not, you know, going to freak out about it? I mean, the whole werewolf thing is a huge secret and you're, well your pretty firm on it remaining so, man."

"Stiles," Derek sighed, "I've told you, I trust you, and if you feel your dad can handle this, then that's enough for me. – I know things haven't been good between you, and I also know it's got a lot to do with me."

"It's not you,"

"Okay, us, the werewolf thing. I don't want to be a secret you keep from your dad." He said, voice thick and breathy, "It never ends well. You need to tell him, you tell him."

"Thanks Derek."

"I'll see you in the morning Stiles. Good night."

"Night, dude." Stiles grinned. He was still grinning when he lowered the phone and stared at his screen, the image of him and Scott grinning in their lacrosse uniforms, taken before the world changed. Stiles ran his thumb over the picture, looking between the happy faces for a moment, before opening his album and flicking though the photo until he found the one of the Hale house he'd taken when it was all done, the sun gleaming off the white exterior. Smiling softly to himself, he clicked the setting, replaying the past with the present.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, firstly, calm down and breathe, no I will not be putting Stiles and Malia together in this fic. Derek and Jennifer are one thing, as it's relevant to the plot, Stiles and Malia is not, so will NOT be happening, not even a little. I dislike them as a couple and barely tolerate Malia as a character, that said I do want her in this story.**

 **Second, I will always keep the Sheriff's name as John because it suits him better and I feel like Jeff Davis purposefully didn't give him the fanon name as a screw you to the fandom. It was such a small thing that never had any real relevance to the show, so why the hell not. It could have been a nice little nod to the fandom, something to say, yeah, we're listening. A bit of fanservice. If Jeff had always planned on his name being Noah, why not tell us that back in season 1 or 2, why drag it out? It's not like Stiles' real name which was kind of a running joke. No, nothing it was definitely Jeff being a bitter old fart who didn't like that as a fandom we didn't just swallow every piece of crap he fed us, and pulled him up on mistakes and bad plots, and NOAH was his payback.**


	10. Harbour Lights

**A/N: I'm afraid that due to unforeseen circumstances, I've lost my computer and am currently having to use a relative's, this means updates might not be as regular as usual, I'm sorry. But I swear, I'm not abandoning this story.**

* * *

 **Harbour Lights**

"What happened?" Derek demanded, hurrying over to the closet door, Stiles right on his heels.

"Someone locked him in." Scott said breathlessly, eyes flickering between the alpha, Stiles and the door. The worry clearly written on his face, "The desk was in front of it when I got here."

Stiles looked to Harris's large desk, which had been violently shoved aside, the corner creating a crack in the classroom wall beneath the blackboard. The teacher was not going to be happy. "Why didn't he just…" Stiles trailed off, his attention caught by the inside of the closet door. Inhaling sharply at the array of scratches scarring the polished wood, frantic and deep. "Oh god." He gapped, his own worry increasing.

The alpha stepped cautiously over the threshold, his body low as he approached, "Isaac? – Isaac, it's Derek, it's okay. You're okay." He said in a calm reassuring voice.

Stiles peered around the corner of the door and stared at Derek. When Isaac looked up to regard the alpha, Stiles could see just how far the teenager had lost control. His features were twisted into his werewolf form, the brow pronounced and his fangs extended. His eyes were glowing gold brightly, the rims red from crying.

"It's okay, I'm here now." Derek whispered, stepping a little closer, his hands outstretched in a show of peace, "You're safe now, Isaac."

"I…" the beta growled, eyes flickering desperate and fearful before landing on Stiles and Scott, hovering in the doorway watching him. Instantly he turned away, burying his face into his shoulder and folding his body further into the corner.

"You need to leave." Derek ordered turning to look at the pair.

Scott opened his mouth to argue but Stiles grabbed his arm, "We'll be by the car." Stiles said cutting over his ex-best friend, already dragging him forcefully away from the door and leaving Derek alone with his troubled beta.

(_*_*_)

Derek waited for them to leave, listening after them until he was sure they'd left not only the classroom but the corridor, before turning his full attention back to Isaac, "They're gone, Isaac. It's just me now."

The teenager listed his eyes and turned to stare at the alpha, "I – I couldn't get – out," he said shakily, "I – I couldn't get…." He shook his head, fresh tears springing to life in his golden eyes, "I tried. I tried and tried but I couldn't get out," he repeated frantically, "He wouldn't let me out."

Derek took a deep breath, his stomach twisting at the strong scent of fear in the small room, anger bubbling to the surface, "Who? Who wouldn't let you out? Harris?"

"Dad." Isaac whispered, as if saying his name any louder would summon him back, "I heard him. He…"

Derek got down to his knees and shuffled a little closer, being sure not to make any sudden movements, "Isaac, your father's dead," he reassured, "He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore."

Isaac shook his head, disbelieving, his gaze flickering over Derek's shoulder to fearfully stare at the now wide open door, before heaving a deep sigh and burying his head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

Derek shuffled over to Isaac's side, not touching him, just allowing his presence to calm the beta. He remembered how Doctor Rhodes had dealt with him the first time he'd broken down during a session. The advice she's given to Laura when she'd come to collect him, "You're okay, Isaac, just breathe. That's it, you're safe."

"I tried to hold on," the boy muttered brokenly, shaking his lowered head, his voice rough from tears and fear, "I tried to…but it slipped away."

"Hold on to what Isaac?" Derek frowned, watching the boy trembled but holding back from touching him.

"The anger." Isaac stated matter-of-factly, lifting his gaze to meet Derek's, "I couldn't keep hold of the anger." He sounded guilty and ashamed, as if he'd somehow let Derek down, and it twisted like a knife in the alpha's gut.

Derek inhaled sharply, his spine stiffening at the memory of Isaac's first full moon. How he'd told him he used the anger as an anchor. God, he'd been so stupid. "It's fine, Isaac." He reassured, careful not to make it sound like he was scolding him, or belittling the teenager, "Everyone has to find their own anchor," he calcified quietly, "Something that brings them peace and comfort. Anger was mine, it doesn't have to be yours."

"What e-else is there?" Isaac said, his features smoothing back into those of a regular human, though his eyes still glowed.

"You have the pack." Derek said encouragingly.

Isaac shook his head, "The pack's gone. Erica and Boyd are gone. You only keep me around for the power I can give you. You've only ever wanted the power." His voice broke as anger battled with sorrow, "There is no pack!" he growled.

Derek stared at him, brows pinched tightly together, his heart beginning to race, "Who told you that?" as if he didn't know.

Isaac glanced up, sinking back against the shelves, fear once again lighting his eyes. Derek swallowed hard and forced himself to calm down.

"Isaac, I didn't give you the bite for power," at the doubtful look in the teenagers face, Derek took another calming breath, silently counting to ten, "Okay," he started again, turning his head to stare at the opposite wall and hopefully allowing Isaac to relax. "It's so much more complicated than Scott knows." The uptick of Isaac's heart told Derek he was right in his assumption. "Yes, there was an element of need that came from becoming alpha, an almost overpowering desire to build a pack, but it goes so much deeper than that." He shook his head, "I never expected to become alpha, I wasn't prepared for it, just as I never expected to find myself alone in the world, with no one. So yes, I wanted a pack, but it had nothing to do with power. I don't care about power, I never have. I care about…family."

Derek took a breath, drawing his legs up and resting his forearms across his knees, "Power was Peter's need. It was all he ever cared about. My mother, she cared solely for protecting those around her, the family, the town."

"So it's like with Jackson becoming the kanima. It's a reflection of the person." Isaac said shyly.

Derek looked at him, smiling proudly, "Yes, exactly. The kind of alpha a werewolf is reflects the kind of person they are, and the things they hold important. Me? Well, I'm a fuck up," he scoffed, "which is why I fuck it up 90% of the time, but the one thing that had always been important to me, is pack. I've made a lot of mistakes though, and those mistakes cost me one pack, I don't want them to cost me another." He met Isaac's gaze, silently asking for forgiveness.

The beta dropped his head, staring down at his hands, "Scott said…" he licked his lips, "…you chose me because I was vulnerable and desperate."

Derek breathed and counted again, "Is that what you believe? That you were weak? That I somehow took advantage of that?" he fought to keep his tone calm, as if they were discussing what to have for dinner, "I didn't. You, Erica and Boyd, you're all strong. You are survivors, just like me. – I didn't offer you the bite because I needed you, or because you happened to be there. Isaac I offered it to you because you deserved it." He twisted around to better see the teenager, "I've told Scott before, the bite, it's a gift not a curse."

Isaac stared at him, searching for the lie he'd never hear.

"I know Scott thinks I was wrong to give you the bite, but that's rooted in his own issues. He wasn't given the choice like you and the others. Peter forced it on him, and in doing so it has made him mistrustful and angry, and he's aiming all that in my direction, for whatever reason." He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice as he spoke, but thankfully Isaac didn't shy away from him again, "That doesn't mean he's right though."

Turning his head, Isaac sighed, pulling his knees tighter against his chest and resting his chin on them, "Scott's my friend." He stated, though it sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself of the fact than defend the other teenager.

"Isaac," Derek said more calmly, reaching out to touch the boy. He waited, hand hovering, for Isaac to give him a small sign of consent before pressing his palm to the back of the teenager's neck. "I'm not going to tell you who you can and can't be friends with, that's not my place. – But I'm going to ask you not to let Scott twist the facts or make you doubt yourself or your decision. Doubt is dangerous."

"Doubt leads to the dark side." Isaac muttered, and Derek grinned.

"You could say that. – I'm going to ask you to consider what is behind all Scott says to you. Think about what _you've_ seen and heard before taking anything Scott says to heart again."

"Are you saying he's using me?" Isaac gapped, eyes glistening with hurt.

"No," Derek shook his head, hoping he was telling the truth. "I don't even think Scott is aware of it. I think he genuinely sees me as being no different to Peter, either because I'm a werewolf or because I'm a Hale. I confess, I didn't exactly earn his trust when I lied about the cure, and no doubt my opinion on his relationship with Allison didn't help matters." Derek sighed, squeezing the beta's neck gently, "But only you can judge if your friendship with Scott is real." He pulled his hand back and smiled, "Either way, I need you to know I'll do better in future. We'll find Erica and Boyd; I swear we will. Until then, you have me," he insisted firmly, a promise in each word, "and Jackson and Stiles. We're pack."

Isaac met Derek's gaze, his eyes finally returning back to his natural blue, "And Scott?"

Derek exhaled, "That's down to him. – Like I said to Jackson, if Scott needs me, _us_ , we're here for him. – He may hate me, but I have no intention of leaving him to fend for himself." No matter how angry he is at him. He'll not become the monster Scott clearly believes he is.

The pair fell silent, sitting in the messy closet just listening to one another's breathing and allowing their minds to wander. Eventually Derek got to his feet, brushing off his jeans and holding out a hand to his beta, "Let's go home."

Isaac stared at the outstretched hand for a moment before finally taking it, pulling himself to his feet, his eyes drifting around the chaotic room, then to the door. "Shit, Harris is…"

Derek looked around, too, seeing the mess, "I'll deal with Harris,"

Isaac looked at him worriedly, "I don't want trouble, it just makes things worse." He muttered shakily.

Derek stared at him, fingers curling at his sides. He shifted his hand behind his back so Isaac wouldn't see the sign of his growing anger. "What do you want to do?"

Isaac looked around, "Can we just clear this up, and then go home."

"Of course," Derek nodded, relaxing his fingers.

It didn't take them long to get the room back to normal and the desk set in place. There was nothing they could do about the door, but Derek reassured Isaac that Harris would be too confused to do anything about it.

"Why were you in detention in the first place?" Derek asked, as they finally left the classroom.

Isaac sighed, "The twins set me up."

Derek looked at him, brows knitted, "Meaning?"

Isaac stared down as he walked, "They ambushed me in the corridor when I went to the bathroom. They started fighting,"

"One another?" Derek asked, confused.

"Yes. Aiden beat the hell out of Ethan and then ran away when Harris came out to see what the noise was. He saw me standing over Ethan. The asshole told him I'd done it because he was gay, and…" Isaac gestured back to the classroom.

Derek gritted his teeth, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans to hide his claws. "And what happened in there?" he nodded to the room.

"I don't know," Isaac began shaking his head, "I was in there, the door open. I always leave it open. The corridor was empty, I made sure to listen out for any one, and then…" he paused inhaling sharply.

"It's okay, we'll…"

"Then the door just slammed closed and I – I couldn't get it open, no matter how hard I tried. I swear Derek, I tried, it wouldn't move."

"I believe you." He replied.

"Do you think it was the twins?" Isaac asked as they reached the exit.

"Can't be sure, but…they're the top of my suspect list."

Isaac chuckled, "You've been hanging with Stiles too long, you're beginning to sound like him."

Derek glowered over at the teenager, but the corner of his mouth turned up.

They burst out into the warm early evening sunlight, summer continuing to cling on for a little while longer. Squinting, Derek looked over to where he'd haphazardly parked the Toyota in a hurry to get to Isaac. The door was open and Stiles sat in the passenger seat, head down as he thumbed through his phone, chewing on his lower lip. Even from the distance, Derek could smell the scent of cooked meat and bread, and he smiled at himself. Obviously Stiles had grabbed his burger on their way out of the diner.

They'd been doing that almost daily the last week and a half, heading to the diner after school to grab something to eat and talk. More often than not, they kept the conversations light, discussing movies, music, high school, but sometimes they delved into one or the other's pasts.

Derek watched Stiles from the top of the school steps for a moment, the teenager looking up as if sensing his gaze and smiled, a smile Derek easily returned.

Over the last couple of months, he'd found himself smiling more and more, with increasing ease. The tight reign he'd had on his emotions for years, slipping away with each passing day. He knew it meant trouble, he was fully aware nothing good would come of letting Stiles in the way he was, and yet he continued to walk down that path because for all the pain and humiliation that would come, he couldn't live in the shadows any longer. Stiles, for all his youth and infuriating manner, for all that it was wrong, had become something of a harbour for Derek. A place to rest and rebuild. His place of safety in a sea of troubles.

Turning his head away from him reluctantly, he sort out Scott, who was sat on his bike at the opposite end of the parking lot. He watched the teenager leap of the machine and begin to make his way over to meet them.

Together he and Isaac jogged down the steps, Scott meeting them at the bottom with a smile for his fellow teen, "Are you okay?" Scott asked, looking him up and down.

"I'm fine, thanks." Isaac said quietly, his eyes flickering from Derek to the car parked across the lot, "And thanks for calling Derek."

Scott looked at the alpha, gaze once more filled with mistrust, "Technically I called Stiles." He clarified coldly.

There was a resounding sigh and Isaac gave him a tight smile, moving to leave, "I'll call you later." He muttered, stepping around the other boy and walking off towards the car, just as Stiles was heading over to them.

Scott watched him go before turning back to Derek, eyes narrow and angry, "What did you say to him? You told him not to hang out with me, is that it? You took Stiles and now you're taking Isaac."

Derek growled, stepping into the teenager's personal space, eyes flashing red for a brief moment to reinforce his alpha status. "I can't take something that never belonged to you," he seethed, "and as for telling Isaac not to hang out with you, I haven't said a word. Unlike _some_ I respect people's choices, and don't go around whispering in people's ears, trying to turn them against their family."

"You're not his family!" Scott spat back, eyes flashing defiantly.

"Pack is family, Scott." Voice low with warning, "And this time, I'll protect my family."

Scott growled, lowering his head and looking up at the alpha through his lashes, "You only want him for the power he can give you."

Derek took another step closer, the toes of his trainers brushing against those of Scott's sneakers, "You talk like you care," he said in a low voice only the werewolf can hear, "and yet you're undermining Isaac's choices, not to mention Stiles'."

"How dare you, I care about them more than you…"

"Oh really?" Derek scoffed, "Which is why you've made Isaac feel like a victim, again. Making him believe he was completely incapable of making choices for himself. That he didn't know what he was doing, or what he wanted." He shook his head, disgusted at the teenager. "Funny how when I tried to warn you about Allison, your argument was you knew exactly what you were doing, but Isaac, no he'd didn't understand. Why is that Scott? Is it because you think you're better than him, than all of us?"

Scott flushed, his heart beginning to race almost out of control. Derek watched as the teenager flicked his fingers, releasing his claws.

"And as for Stiles," Derek scoffed, sneering at Scott's attempt to intimidate him, "If you care so much about him, where were you when he needed you, and why can't he trust you enough to…"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Stiles said hurriedly, stepping in between them again, "Alright, I think we all need to calm down before things are said that can't be unsaid." He shot Derek an angry glare and gave his chest a shove, putting more space between the werewolves, before turning back to Scott, "I think you should go home Scott."

The teenager gave him that familiar look of betrayal, glancing briefly at the back of the Toyota, then turned marching furiously away, swearing up a storm under his breath, fully aware Derek could hear him.

Closing his eyes, Derek inhaled deeply to calm himself and got an overpowering scent of anger and…Stiles, snapping his eyes open he stared down into almost murderous brown eyes, and swallowed thickly.

"What was that?" Stiles demanded loudly, giving Derek's chest another rough shove.

"What?" Derek deadpanned, despite the blood rushing through his every vein and the hammering of his heart.

"What? What, he says. You trying to bait Scott, that's what."

Derek grunted angrily, "I wasn't baiting him, he was baiting me."

Stiles shook his head, dragging his fingers through his hair as he turned in a wide circle and staring up at the sky. "Lord give me strength!" he prayed, turning back to Derek, "You're as bad as each other. You baiting him to make him look bad in front of Isaac, Scott baiting you so you look bad in front of him and me. It's like a fucking werewolf pissing contest,"

"You don't know what he's been saying to Isaac." Derek snapped defensively.

"Yes," Stiles replied matching his tone, "I do, because he's likely said the same thing to me." He rolled his eyes, "And losing your temper and throwing shit in his face like that isn't going to convince him otherwise, - And talking of shit."

"Ow!" Derek gasped, flinching from the hard punch Stiles landed on his shoulder,

"Don't use me or my…stuff to score points again. I'm not your fucking weapon Derek!" Stiles yelled angrily, "I'm no one's weapon!" with that he turned, marching back to the car.

Derek stared after him, guiltily. "I'm sorry." He whispered, knowing Stiles would hear him despite the growing distance between them.

Stiles stopped in the middle of the lot, shoulders slumping.

"I shouldn't have done that," Derek said, strolling up behind Stiles and resting his hand on the teenager's shoulders, "It was wrong and a betrayal of your trust." He added softly, "Sometimes I forget I'm a grown up."

Stiles let out a dry laugh and shook his head, "Fine," he sighed, "You're forgiven, this time." He said turning his head to look up at the alpha, who smiled shyly.

"Thank you."

They stood like that for a few moments before Stiles stepped out from under Derek's hands and hurried the rest of the way to the car. Derek inhaled deeply, letting it out with a sigh of relief before following. Stiles just reached the open passenger door when a female voice caught both their attention.

Derek turned at the sound of his name, eyes widening as Jennifer Blake, his date from the previous week made her way towards him. He'd forgotten she was a teacher at the high school, and he felt his stomach sink.

"I thought it was you?" Jennifer smiled, looking from Derek to Stiles and back again, "What are you doing here?"

There was something in her voice that made his defence go up, "I was just collecting my ward."

"Your ward?" she frowned, looking over to Stiles, "I…"

"Not me, Ms Blake. Isaac." Stiles thumbed behind him and as if on cue, the other teenager stuck his head out of the window.

"Oh." Jennifer flushed, dropping her gaze with a guilty smile, "Of course." she nodded, as if remembering something.

"Derek just offered to give me a ride home too, as my car is still a right off from the accident." Stiles rambled on. "He's a good friend like that."

Derek stared over at him, bemused. Stiles grinned, gave him a thumbs up and climbed into the car, pulling the door shut as if to give him and the teacher privacy. Derek ground his teeth, and glowered over at him.

"Derek?"

"Sorry what?" He said, turning back to the woman.

"I said I had a lovely time Friday."

"Yeah, it was…great." He didn't even sound convincing to his own ears, however if Jennifer heard the lie, she didn't show it, smiling brightly at him. "We should do it again." He heard himself say and wished he could rip his own throat out.

Jennifer beamed, "That would be wonderful. Friday?"

"Uh," he stammered, scrambling around for an excuse, staring at the woman dumbfounded. Why the hell had he said he wanted a third date, what was wrong with him? "I'm afraid I can't do Friday, family night." He lied once more, growing suddenly desperate.

"Oh, of course." Jennifer muttered, dropping her gaze shyly and chewing on her lip.

Derek kicked himself. Here was a good looking, smart woman who wanted to actually date him and he was fighting it, why? Because he had an unrequited and very much illegal crush on a teenager. God, he had to start behaving like a grown up. "Saturday," he said suddenly, resolved to try.

Jennifer lifted her brown eyes, looking at him through her lashes before fully raising her head, "Saturday would be perfect." She beamed, "Same time?"

"I'll pick you up." He said, feigning confidence.

"Lovely." She grinned, cheeks pink with excitement, "Well, I should get home, papers to mark, lesson plans to put together."

Derek nodded, "Yeah. Good night."

"Goodnight Derek. I'll see you Saturday."

Derek smiled, watching her stroll back to her car, a spring in her step, while his stomach twisted into frantic anxious knots.

With a sigh, he turned, heading for the car door. He didn't glance over again, too afraid she'd been waiting for him to look and wave. Instead he yanked open the door and climbed inside, ignoring the eyes on him as he started the engine.

"You got another date." Isaac stated, as if it needed clarifying.

Derek shrugged, pulling the car out of the parking spot and heading for the exit as quick as he could. As if he could out run his own stupid decision.

"What was that about family night?" Stiles asked with a smirk a minute later.

Relaxing in the seat and glad not to be bombarded with questions about Jennifer, especially not from Stiles, "I figured we could have a pizza and movie night. Maybe make it a regular thing." He could feel Stiles eyes on him again, burning into the side of his face, but he didn't dare turn to look.

"You sure?" Stiles said gently.

There was a long moment of silence before Derek nodded, "Yeah" he whispered, giving the teenager a sidelong look and a reassuring smile, "It's time. – Mom would want it."

Stiles nodded in agreement. "Well count me in."

Derek grinned, the tightness in his gut and chest finally easing.

* * *

 **A/N: I always felt Isaac was seriously hard done by on this show. His trauma was never really dealt with, unless it was to make Scott look good. Also considering how Davis kept trying to push people away from Sterek and toward Sciaac, he didn't actually do much with them. I wonder if he only wanted Isaac because Isaac didn't have the same fan appeal as Stiles and therefore wouldn't be a distraction from his Mary-Sue: Scott. I mean let's face it, while Scott and Isaac had some nice scenes together, Isaac was never really fleshed out as a character. He was either a replacement for Stiles in many scenes, or as a replacement for Scott in the sexy scenes that Allison and Scott's breakup took away from the show.**

 **Also, bonus points if you've figured out that each chapter is named after an episode of Dark Angel. Kudos.**

 **Sorry for the rant. See you again soon. :D**


	11. Shorties in Love

**A/N: Sorry it's been such a long wait, life got in the way. So I've given you an extra-long chapter to make up for it. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

 **Shorties in Love**

Stiles watched Ms Blake with narrowed eyes, following her every movement around the classroom. In the twenty-four hours since he'd discovered that his new English teacher was the woman Derek had been on two dates with, Stiles hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. Though not in the way many of the guys, and some of the girls in his class did.

When she'd first taken over from Mr Franklin, he'd been pretty indifferent to her. Though he hadn't liked that she'd cut off his only line of communication with Derek during class. Which was a perfectly reasonable reason to dislike the woman when said alpha had a tendency for getting himself into a ton of trouble and would ultimately need Stiles help getting out of it.

That was, of course, until two days ago when he'd discovered that she was the woman Derek had been secretly dating.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a secret. Jackson knew. He'd seen them, and it wasn't as if Derek had been sneaking around. It was simply that neither he nor Derek talked about it. The one time Stiles had brought it up, Derek had evaded the question, and in all honesty, Stiles had been beyond grateful.

When he'd told Derek he should get out there and date again, he hadn't actually expected the man to do it. It wasn't that he hadn't meant it, he had, he'd just...well, he'd expected it to take a while. He'd expected Derek to mope around for a couple of years.

Only Derek had gone out and apparently met Ms Blake at the grocery store, because yes, Derek was the kind of guy who gets girls picking them up over the tinned beans, and now he was heading into his third date with the woman, and _everyone_ knew what happened on the third date.

Sex, that's what. Sex happened on third dates. Derek was going to have sex. With _her_.

Stiles ground his teeth, his glare intensifying. So much so it was a miracle her head didn't just explode like in that old movie his babysitter had let him watch when he was ten.

And yes, okay, he knew he sounded jealous. Which, maybe he was. He's 16 after all. 16, hormonal, and so incredibly single.

And yes, lonely. Because seriously, how was it fair that Derek 'baggage' Hale was on his third date, while Stiles couldn't so much as get a first.

Tapping his pen angrily against his notes, Stiles turned to stare out the window, as he'd found himself doing more and more the last year. He watched the cloudless blue sky and let his mind wander where it wanted. - Which as it turned out was right back to Derek and his date.

It was just weird was all, right? Derek dating his teacher. The only way it would be weirder would be if Derek was his dad and...

A disgusted shiver went through him at the thought. _No, no, no_. That was just gross, Derek wasn't his parent, he was his friend.

His very good friend.

His very good friend who'd seen him naked.

Stiles shifted in his seat, suddenly very disconcerted by the reaction of his body. He stared down at his text book and wiggled, gritting his teeth as his dick twitched in the suddenly tight confines of his jeans.

Okay, yes Derek had seen him naked. Yes, Derek had carried his prone, naked body from the bathroom to his bedroom, laid him out on the mattress, covered him up and then sat there while he slept it off, but that was just Derek being - Derek. Cautious and a concerned adult, the guy probably hadn't even _looked_.

And if by some miracle he _had_ looked, there was no way Derek would say or do anything, not after what Kate had done to him as a teenager. Derek was determined to learn from the past. The guy had practically had a meltdown after that ass slap, racked with guilt and shame for what he'd done, there was no way Derek would pursue anything with him, even if he wanted to.

With a heavy disgruntled sigh, Stiles slid down in his seat and hung his head for a moment, shaking it a little.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of class, Stiles wasted no time sliding out of his desk and grabbing his stuff, eyes flickering over to Lydia, watching as she piled her binder and books, and heaved them off the desk like wonder woman. When she turned, she smiled at him. Together they made their way to the door and Stiles waved his arm for her to go first, but was forced to step back as a couple of freshman rushed into the classroom, knocking into Lydia just outside, causing her to drop her stuff.

"Hey, watch it!" Stiles snapped at the two younger students, who looked back at him worriedly.

Shaking his head, Stiles hurried out and crouched, helping Lydia gather up her papers and books. As he lifted her notepad he stared at the doodles in the margin, brows knitting together. Turning it, he asked, "What's this?"

Lydia reached for the pad, "My notes." She sighed, rolling her eyes at the stupid question.

Stiles mirrored her reaction, shaking his head and pointing to the margin, "This?"

Lydia frowned down at it, shrugging, "I doodle when I'm bored."

They got to their feet and headed off towards their next class. Stiles reached out to grab the pad and flicked through the pages, ignoring Lydia's protests. "The same thing, over and over." He mused.

Snatching it back, Lydia glared at him, "I must have seen it somewhere," she shrugged again, "and it's stuck in my head. You know, like a song."

Stiles wasn't convinced. While it was plausible she'd seen the symbol in a book, - she had been reading a lot of old books lately, - Stiles instincts told him this was something else, something important. A vital clue. "Have you drawn anything else?" He asked, stopping her outside her class.

Lydia frowned up at him, shaking her head. "Why?"

"Miss Martin, Mr Stilinski, when you're quite ready?" Mr Godfrey grumbled impatiently.

Lydia sighed, turning away before Stiles could say anything more. Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line and followed after her, taking his usual seat four rows behind.

_(*-*)_/

The day dragged, as Friday's always did. There were tortoises that moved quicker that the final day of a school week. Which meant Stiles had a lot of time to think, both about his realization that he might have more than just friendly feelings for Derek, and about the fact that Lydia was apparently doodling Celtic symbols. - The crazy thing was that the second was far more disturbing. Was Lydia challenging her death magic mojo? A thick rope of anticipation tried itself around his chest, pulling tight. At least the pack was going to be together tonight. Well, everyone but Scott.

Stiles looked over his shoulder to his ex-best friend, sat alone in the corner. Isaac hadn't been in school since Wednesday, needing a few days to deal with his PTSD, and Stiles suspected the beta wasn't ready to have to deal with either of the twins, who they'd all concluded were likely responsible for Isaac being locked in Harris' closet, not that the pair had been in school either. Conspicuous by their absence.

Isaac also most likely didn't want to deal with Scott, and Stiles couldn't blame him. After everything Isaac had gone through, listening to Scott's bitter bitching about Derek was simply too much. It was why, despite fearing another sacrifice, Stiles had no intention of inviting Scott to the house for movie night. Not that he'd accept anyway. Frankly Stiles was just tired of having to defend himself or his decisions, especially to someone who was never going to listen. _Never_.

The best he could do, was warn Scott about the possible fresh sacrifice and hope that Lydia didn't find Scott's body next.

Tugging out his phone, he shot off a text, figuring the sooner the better, he swiftly typed out a message, **Be careful tonight. I think there may be another sacrifice.** He hit send and slid his cell back into his pocket and looked anxiously at the clock. Twenty minutes. He had twenty minutes before he could escape the school and hit the books, trying to figure out how Lydia's doodle was connected to the murders.

Stiles tapped his foot impatiently against the desk table and sighed, fingers beginning to beat out s steady rhythm. _Da dum da dum. Da dum da dum_. Then the silence was sliced through by the pleasant sound of freedom, and Stiles practically leapt out if his seat, grabbing his books and papers haphazardly.

Speeding out of the classroom, Stiles hurried to his locker, grabbed his bag and slammed the metal door shut. He paused by Lydia's locker as he passed, "I'll see you guys later at the house," he grinned, gaze flickering over to where Jackson was stood sorting through his locker. "Movie night." He gave them both an encouraging double thumbs up as he strolled backwards towards the exit. - Neither one looking particularly excited about the prospect of spending an evening watching old movies with him. - Or maybe it was spending time together that was the problem.

Stiles was still considering that, when he burst through the double doors, out into the too warm afternoon sunlight. A wide grin spread across his face at the sight of Derek parked up, patiently waiting for him, and as he jogged down the steps he felt his heart beating fast and unrelenting, excited at the prospect of being close to the alpha once again.

"Hey Sourwolf." Stiles greeted cheerfully, climbing into his usual seat. - Even when Isaac was with them, Stiles always sat shotgun, like it was a given.

"You're in a good mood," Derek observed, eyes narrowing at him suspiciously, "What did you do?"

Stiles gaped at him indignantly, "Why does everyone assume if I'm in a good mood it's because I've done something? Maybe, just maybe it's because its Friday, and I'm free to enjoy a movie night with my werewolf buddies, and a whole weekend to chill out, is that not enough?"

Derek stared at him, brow raised expectantly, "And?"

Stiles stared him down, lip curled up at the corner, "And..." _I get to spend the whole evening with you._ "...I may have a new lead on the virgin killer."

Derek let out a huff of amusement, "That's more like it." He grinned, starting the engine.

Fastening his belt, Stiles rolled his eyes, "Can we just grab from the drive thru today, I want to get back to the basement and look up what I found."

Derek nodded his agreement, "Which is?" He asked curiously.

"Lydia was drawing this Celtic symbol on her notebook, I know I've seen it in one of the books."

"So, " Derek dismissed with a shrug, "She's been reading those books a lot since you told her she was a banshee, maybe she just liked it or it got stuck in her head."

"That's what she said," Stiles grumbled, turning to fix the alpha with an impatient look, "but seriously, what are the chances?" When Derek open his mouth, Stiles cut across him, "You said you trusted my instincts, well my instincts say its connected."

Derek stared at him for a few seconds and nodded, "Alright."

They swung by the drive-thru, grabbing their usual before Derek drove them back to the house. Stiles was stuffing curtly fries into his mouth when Derek suddenly asked, "What happened with your father? He hasn't turned up at the house with a pitch fork and rifle, did you not tell him?"

Stiles sighed, the fry in his fingers falling back into the bag, "No." He muttered, chewing on the remains in his mouth, "Haven't found the time. He's always at work, and when he isn't and we're actually able to sit down and eat together, he looks so tired and stressed that I just can't bring myself to lay that on him too."

Derek nodded and Stiles rolled down the white paper bag and slumped, "And as hard as this will be to believe, I don't have a clue what I'm going to say." He shook his head, huffing out a dry humourless laugh.

Derek glanced over at him with a reassuring smile, "You'll tell him when you know he's ready to hear it."

"I don't think it's the kind of thing he'll ever be ready to hear."

There was a long silence, Stiles fussing with the bag, dragging his teeth against his lower lip. With a great sigh, he turned his head on the rest and watched Derek's profile, "How did todays search go?"

Derek exhaled a long tired sigh, "Same as last night." he shook his head, "Nothing." twisting his head he met Stiles gaze, "They're not in the area. - Maybe they did actually just leave." he muttered, turning back to the road with a pinched look on his face.

"What about the cell?" Stiles reminded him, "He wouldn't leave the cell."

"Maybe he dropped it," Derek shrugged dismissively, "and didn't notice. If they'd gotten far enough away, I doubt they would have come back and risked getting caught."

He had a point, Stiles knew. He'd thought the same thing at first, though he hadn't said anything. He'd decided Derek needed to come to that conclusion on his own. However, that was before a series of murders and Isaac's attempted kidnapping. Now, Stiles wasn't so sure. That said, maybe it would be better for Derek to accept the idea that Boyd and Erica had chosen to leave, especially when there was obviously no sign of them in the area.

Stiles chewed his lip thoughtfully, his eyes locked on Derek's tense and sad features. Letting him believe the pair had abandoned him wasn't any less painful, Stiles thought, than the idea that they'd been taken. Either Derek was so bad at being an alpha, which he'd fully admit to, that his pack had left him, or he'd failed to properly protect them. Neither opinion was going to make Derek feel better.

"They could be being held outside of the area," Derek said quietly, almost under his breath, and Stiles lip curled ever so slightly.

"It's possible."

They fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride to the house, Stiles staring out the passenger window at the passing town. As they passed the sheriff's station, he didn't bother ducking down, there was no point really. His dad knew Derek gave him a ride to and from school, and while he wasn't happy about it, Stiles figured his dad had just accepted that his son was going to do his own thing, no matter what he said about it.

It hurt, though, knowing how badly his relationship with his dad had deteriorated over the past year. It hadn't been all that great since his mom had died, but the last year with all the secrets and the deaths that Stiles always seemed to be around, had made the gap between them, a canyon of lies and silence. So much so, that Stiles wondered if they'd ever had a proper father-son relationship again.

He remembered what his dad had said about his relationship with his own father, how they'd never gotten along. How he'd always seemed to be a disappointment. How his dad had never been proud of him? "History always repeats itself." Stiles muttered under his breath.

"What?" Derek frowned over at him.

Stiles shook his head, not looking at the man, "Nothing. I was talking to myself."

Derek didn't push, and the car was once again silent. When they pulled up to the house, Isaac was sat on the front porch with a glass of what looked to Stiles to be ice tea, his back pressed to the wooden beam, shirtless. _It was amazing what becoming a werewolf does to your self-esteem_. Stiles thought with a shake of his head. Once upon a time Isaac would never have been seen without a shirt, likely due to the bruises his father had undoubtedly inflicted.

Climbing out of the car almost before it had come to a full stop, Stiles grinned at the beta, "Please tell me there is more of that?" He gestured at the glass and Isaac grinned wickedly, lifting it to his lips as he shook his head. Stiles narrowed his eyes at the other teen, "Asshole." He grunted, "I have half a mind to..."

"There's a jug in the fridge," Derek interrupted from behind him, "It has your name on it."

Stiles turned to beam at the alpha, his eyes softening and his heart doing a double skip, "You made me my own ice tea?"

Derek grunted, shrugging dismissively and marching passed him to vanish into the house. Stiles stared after him, lips stretched into a wide grin.

"It's just ice tea dude." Isaac huffed with amusement, "It's not like he brought you an engagement ring."

Stiles' head snapped round, face going scarlet as his heart leapt into his throat, "Uh huh...what? I... Shut up asshole." He grunted, stomping up the stairs. He paused outside the open door, nervously chewing his lip. Derek would have heard Isaac's comment, would have heard the way Stiles heart had skipped. _Shit_.

 _Just grab your tea and hide downstairs._ He told himself, heart racing.

"You just going to stand there?" Isaac scoffed, watching him over the rim of his glass.

Stiles grunted, twisting to shoot the teenager a disgruntled glare, flipping him off in the process. It was good though, in a way, to see Isaac recapturing his post bite confidence. It meant he was feeling settled again. That whatever Scott had been whispering in his ear was finally not being allowed to wallow and grow into a dark vine of mistrust and self-doubt.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles headed into the house, a mask of self-assuredness locked in place, even as his heart raced and skipped.

He found Derek in the kitchen, jacket tossed over one of the chairs, his back to Stiles as he did something at the sink. Dropping his bag on the kitchen table, Stiles marched over to the refrigerator and yanked it open, the glass bottles and jars chiming together. As promised there was a large jug with a label hanging from its handle, Stiles name in a familiar scrawl. He licked his lips and grinned into the fridge, his heart flipping over. It seemed to be doing that constantly, ever since his revelation during English class. Or maybe, he was just more aware of it now.

Either way, Stiles just stared at the gift, unable to bring himself to remove it. He had the sudden desire to take a photo of it, for prosperity, but he didn't want to face Derek's questions.

He could only imagine how Derek would react if he knew Stiles was growing a little too enamored of him. With all Derek's guilt and self-condemnation, Stiles knew the alpha would pull away, putting as much distance between them, in some kind of virtuous effort to protect Stiles from himself. – And it would be a thousand times worse, if Derek actually reciprocated.

"Stiles?" Derek called, worried.

Taking a breath and trying to reduce the glow of his smile so as not to give away his true feelings, Stiles turned, "Yep," he asked with a pop.

"Would you mind not using my refrigerator as a full body cool down device?"

Stiles grunted, "I was just trying to decide what I wanted to eat?"

"You mean on top of the burger and fries?" Derek glanced over to where Stiles had left the drive-thru bag.

Stiles followed his gaze and sighed, "I'm a growing boy with a fast metabolism." He shrugged, turning back and regretfully grabbing the jug. "Besides, you forget I've seen how you werewolves eat." He scoffed, carrying the ice tea over to the counter so he can retrieve a glass.

Derek huffed at him, "I can make you a sandwich."

Gritting his teeth at the movement of his heart, Stiles closed his eyes, praying that Derek wouldn't hear it. "Thanks dude." He replied as breezily as possible, "I'll be in the basement, researching. Let me know when the others get here." He didn't look at Derek, fearing what signs he'd unconsciously give off. Struggling to balance his ice tea, book bag and food, Stiles marched towards the basement door, Derek hurrying after him to pull it open for him.

_(*-*)_/

Derek needed a distraction, he decided as he watched Stiles shuffle cautiously down the basement stairs, the sound of his racing heart echoing in Derek's ears, his own quickly matching its rhythm.

Stiles had been acting odd from the second he'd climbed into the car. An overpowering scent of happiness and arousal. The moment Derek had smelt it; he'd felt a primitive serge of jealousy.

It wasn't unusual for Stiles to reek of arousal, he was a teenager, but it had been a while since it had been so strong that it had an involuntary effect on Derek. So he'd jumped to the most logical explanation, Stiles had set his cap at someone, as his grandmother used to say. Which hadn't been overly surprising. It would make sense that now Lydia was back with Jackson, that Stiles might look for companionship elsewhere.

He'd buried his jealousy deep down and had firmly reminded himself that it didn't matter to him anyway. Stiles was a friend. _Just_ a friend. There was no chance at all for anything more, because, above all, Stiles was just a kid. Wise beyond his years maybe, despite his seeming immaturity, - though Derek had come to realize over the past year that that immaturity was sometimes a cover to distract others from seeing the real him. - he was a kid nonetheless, and like hell was Derek going to allow himself to become like Kate.

All that in mind, it twisted the knife deeper when they'd gotten back to the house and Derek realized that he was the object of Stiles sudden affections. He'd tried to brush it off at first, but when he'd heard the way Stiles' heart had skipped over itself at Isaac's teasing remark. Derek's own heart had done a variation of cartwheel that would be worthy of an Olympic medal.

He'd brushed it off and went around clearing an already tidy kitchen, when Stiles had eventually waltzed in and Derek was hit once again with happiness and arousal, only this time accompanied by embarrassment, nervousness and just a hint of sadness. Derek's desire began to war with his sense of honor and determination to keep his feelings for the teenager locked away. Determined not to become the kind of heartless cold predator Kate had been.

It was hard though, listening to the way Stiles body reacted to him was the worst kind of temptation, speaking to something deep inside him. Something he hadn't felt since...well since Paige.

He shook his head at the sudden memory and turned hurriedly away from the stairs, moving back over to the kitchen counter.

Desperate for a diversion, Derek began to rifle through the refrigerator and pantry, yanking out ingredients. Only when they were all set in front of him was he aware of what he was doing, and what his subconscious had decided he would make. His heart skipped at it, the memory of the last time he'd attempted to make his Grandmother's generations-old Cottage Pie. It had been a disaster, and he'd ended up a trembling mess, locked in his room until Doctor Rhodes could talk him down.

Derek looked down at his hands and pressed his lips into a thin line. They were trembling, and he could feel the anxiety creeping up. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, fighting to calm himself.

The first thing his senses locked on was the sound of heartbeats. Steady and calm, mostly. Close and comforting. Then the scent seeped in, curling around him like a warm blanket. So different from anything he'd ever smelt before. Unique, just like its owner.

Derek focused on it, allowing it to fully encompass him like a shield. He felt the anxiety ebb away. When he opened his eyes and looked down at the countertop he found himself ready to face the past.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles stared at the wall, the large map he'd tacked to the brick overcrowded with pictures and notes. It didn't make sense.

It hadn't taken him long to locate information about the symbol he'd seen scrawled all over Lydia's notes, and it had only solidified his belief that they're should have been four sacrifices. According to what he'd found, the symbol represented four aspects, elements, directions, seasons, - victims, all linked together by a fifth element.

And yet, they'd only been three sacrifices. Why?

Turning, Stiles stared down once again at the computer screen, his eyes flickering over the lines, then down to the chart at the bottom, hoping for something to explain the lack of a forth sacrifice. All the bodies were found in the same place, though at different corners of the school. North, East and South. All at the same time of year, late summer. They'd all taken place over the full moon. There was no reason he could find that there shouldn't have been a final sacrifice.

Stiles paced back and forth in front of the map, pen hanging from his mouth and head snapping left to right as he tried to sort things into some semblance of order.

 _North, East, South...West._ He repeated over and over in his head, round and round until he felt like the words had lost all meaning. _Pool, Parking Lot, Lacrosse Field... Why not the gym? It should have been the gym. What am I missing?_ He asked himself desperately, dragging his fingers through his hair.

A loud bang above him pulled him reluctantly out of his own head, and for the first time in over an hour Stiles became aware of the world around him, and with it the appealing scent of meat and onions. Almost instantly his stomach growled and he pressed his hand to it, tongue moving between his lips.

Looking over at the empty glass of ice tea and the untouched sandwich, he also became aware of the heat. A single bead of sweat rolled down his spine, and Stiles dragged his palm across the back of his neck.

With a final lingering glance at the wall, Stiles turned, hurriedly taking the stairs.

Despite the cooking food and the late summer weather, the kitchen was surprisingly cool, likely thanks to all the windows and doors being opened as wide as they could possibly go, and the fan whirling in the space between the kitchen and the den, spreading the cooler air around.

He scanned the room, frowning when he didn't find Derek stood at the counter or sat at the kitchen table. Closing his eyes, Stiles reached out, seeking out Derek's voice. Unsurprisingly he locked on it instantly.

Strolling casually, with the air of someone who'd spent too much time in the house that wasn't his own, Stiles yanked open the refrigerator door and stood savoring the blissfully cool air radiating out of the large black appliance.

When a shiver passed through him, Stiles opened his eyes and reached for a can of orange soda and let the door swing closed, giving it a gentle kick with his foot just to be sure it was fully sealed.

Derek was exactly where he expected to find him, stretched out on the porch swing, his head resting back against the arm, his eyes closed. Stiles stood by the steps, his shoulder pressed into the post with a soft smile spread across his face. The swing moved back and forth gently, barely noticeable unless you were watching, and Derek cradled what was by now undoubtedly a warm bottle of beer against his stomach, a small dark patch of fabric where the condensation had rolled down the length of glass to soak the man's Hensley.

Stiles felt his heart skip at the sight. A year ago, Stiles knew, Derek would never have let his defenses down like that, too wary of an attack. Fearing the Argents. - Especially Kate.

He couldn't deny it seemed weird. There was someone or something out there seemingly targeting him and the pack, and yet Derek looked at ease, lying there, without a care in the world.

There was a gentle unexpected gust of warm air and Stiles shivered. He didn't know which caught Derek's attention first, his scent or the nonsense he muttered as his body jerked. Either way, Derek's eyes snapped open and his head twisted to fix his suddenly alert eyes on the teenager.

"Sorry," Stiles whispered shaking his head, "I didn't mean to wake you. I just needed some air and to cool down. It's like a sauna down there." He smiled tightly, "Go back to sleep," he pushed himself off the post and waved Derek back down as the alpha shifted to sit up. "I..."

"I wasn't sleeping," Derek smiled, soft and reassuring. It made Stiles breath catch.

"Oh, well..."

Derek swung his legs down and stood, gesturing for Stiles to take his abandoned seat.

"You don't have to..."

Derek raised the bottle, "Just grabbing a fresh one." vanishing into the house.

Stiles hover there uncertainly for a few seconds, before shrugging and lowering himself down onto the polished wood, still warm from Derek's body. Biting at his lower lip he tugged at his jeans. He was still groping at his junk when Derek reappeared and Stiles snatched his hand away as if burnt.

The moment that followed was awkward, Stiles bit deeper into his lip as Derek simply stood there staring at him, a thick blanket of tension settling over the pair of them. The sweat on Stiles back seemed to worsen, and he was pretty sure it had little to do with the late summer weather.

The sound of a car door slamming burst the bubble and Derek gave a physical jolt, inhaling so deeply Stiles was surprised his lungs didn't explode. In the blink of an eye Derek was turning away from him to stare down at the approaching figure. Stiles reluctantly followed his gaze to find Jackson plodding his way towards the house, alone.

"Where's Lydia?" Stiles asked instantly, leaping off the swing.

Jackson's features darken with frustration, grunting out an answer, "Said she had too much school work. She said to tell you sorry." he didn't sound at all happy, or convinced.

Stiles had to agree, as excuses go, 'homework' was a pretty poor one, especially when you're using it on people who are in the same classes as you, _and_ who know just how smart you are. So the question was, why? Why did Lydia need to lie to Jackson of all people?

"Oh, well..." Derek muttered, and Stiles turned to look at the disappointed look on his face. It seemed odd, considering Lydia wasn't a werewolf, thus wasn't really part of his pack, and yet... - Derek gave a shrug, "You don't have to stay, if you have other stuff to do."

Jackson looked up, eyes suddenly pleading in a way Stiles hadn't seen them before, "Uh," he looked from Derek to Stiles, then back, "I..." he attempted a nonchalant shrug, "I don't have anything better to do, Danny's on a date and well," he dropped his gaze, shoulders slumping.

"Isaac's in his room," Derek said ignoring whatever he was picking up from Jackson, "or you could hang out here with us?" he gestured to Stiles.

Jackson's eyes flickered between them once more, his brows and nose furrowing before he huffed out an amused laugh and shook his head, stomping past them and into the house. "I think I'll just chill out in my room until dinner's ready." He announced over his shoulder.

"Your room?" Stiles called from the open front door, watching as Jackson marched up the stairs. The teenager looked back down at him with a knowing grin and a wink that made Stiles heart flutter and his cheeks flame.

"It may as well be his," Derek huffed. Stiles turned back to the alpha, who'd retaken his seat on the swing, the man wrinkling his nose as he met Stiles questioning look, "It still stinks up there," he shook his head, "I've had the windows open for days and... I don't know what they were doing up there..."

Stiles hand shot up and he lowered his head, shaking it, "I don't want to know. I don't even want to think about it."

Derek fell silent and when Stiles looked up, it was to the sight of Derek slouching on the swing, pushing it gently back and forth with the heel of his barefoot. Stiles swallowed, surprised by how appealing a barefoot suddenly was.

"So, what's for dinner?" Stiles asked in a breathless rush of words, strolling quickly over to perch on the stoop, his back pressed to the post.

"Old family recipe." Derek replied, staring down at his foot as he took a sip of the beer, "Cottage Pie."

Stiles frowned, "Cottage pie? Is that like Shepherd's pie?"

Derek smiled, nodding. "Yeah, only with beef instead of lamb."

"Uh."

"It was my Grandmother's recipe." Derek clarified, meeting Stiles curious gaze. "She was English, my grandfather met her during the war."

Stiles grinned soppily, "Like something out of the movies." he gushed.

"Shut up."

"Sorry. How did they meet, did she know he was a werewolf before or after she married him, wait, was she a werewolf? Wait, did they get married or was this a living in sin deal?"

"I don't think I'll ever get used to how you can squeeze so many questions in to a single sentence." Derek huffed, rolling his eyes. "What makes you think he was a werewolf?" he lifted a questioning brow and Stiles flushed, "My grandmother was from a British pack, and my grandfather was a Colonel in the army. He found my mother injured in the woods by the base he'd been stationed at. She'd been shot by a hunter, and was...well, you remember how their bullets work. He carried her back to her family and they were able to save her. After that, he kept stopping by to visit her. According to my grandmother, he didn't seem to care that she was a werewolf, as if it was the most natural thing in the world." Derek smiled down at his foot. "By the time he was being shipped home to the US, they'd fallen in love and were expecting their first child."

"So they got married and lived happily ever after." Stiles huffed. When Derek remained silent, Stiles opened one eye and peered over at the alpha, "Didn't they?"

"Not at first." Derek shook his head, looking over at a sun-kissed Stiles,

Derek sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he cradled the bottle between his legs, "My grandfather's family weren't happy about the marriage, and when my grandmother lost two children at birth, they demanded my grandfather divorce her and marry someone else."

"Douchebags." Stiles snapped, "What complete fucking... But he refused right, I mean you're here so..."

Derek looked up, nodding. "They left Iowa and sort refuge with the Hales,"

Stiles lightened, grinning over at the alpha, "Is that how your mom and dad met?"

"Yeah, they grew up together. High school sweethearts. Prom king and queen, all that jazz."

"Awesome." Stiles grinned.

"And your grandfather never heard from his family again?"

Derek shook his head, "Never even spoke about them, I learnt it all from my grandmother after he died."

"When did he die?" Stiles asked, flushing when Derek shot him an amused look, "Sorry, none of my business, just pretend I never asked." he sniffed the air, "Is dinner ready yet?" stomach growling as if punctuating the question.

Lifting his nose, Derek nodded, "Smells like it." Getting to his feet, he led the way into the house, Stiles on his heels.

"Want me to set the table?" Without waiting for an answer, Stiles made his way over to the large sideboard. Derek had brought it from a thrift store on main street, and the fresh paint job looked as perfect as any bought brand new. Pulling open the cabinet doors, Stiles grabbed the plates, then yanked open the drawers to scoop out the cutlery, carrying the load over to the kitchen table.

Derek glanced over his shoulder at him, as he set the places, "There are place mats in the far right drawer.

Stiles frowned up at him, then hurried over to retrieve them. He paused with one hand clutching the place mats and the other gripping the drawer, debating whether to grab the tablecloth too, "Tablecloth?"

"Up to you," Derek replied distractedly.

Stiles twisted his head to see the alpha busy with straining vegetables, and sighed. He took a moment to stare down at the cloth, then shook his head, shoving the drawer closed and returning to the table.

"Isaac, Jackson, dinner!" Derek said with only a slight rise to his voice.

Within seconds the two werewolves were rushing into the kitchen, yanking out chairs, either side of the table, and taking a seat. As Stiles helped Derek carry over the food, he listened with only half an ear as Isaac and Jackson discussed school and lacrosse with a strange air of friendship that Stiles would heartily admit, made him nervous.

_(*-*)_/

Sitting down to a proper meal with Isaac, Jackson and Stiles, left a bitter taste in his mouth. He should have waited, he realized after the first bite. He should have kept the meal for when he got Erica and Boyd back, and maybe, if he were lucky, Cora. Then he'd really be able to soak in the joy that came from being surrounded by pack.

The brief thought of his sister reignited his worry once more. It had been weeks since the incident with Isaac at the hospital and Derek still hadn't managed to locate her. It was as if she'd vanished off the face of the earth. So much so he was even beginning to wonder if she'd been real in the first place.

Stiles had given him a copy of the police file, something Derek was sure the sheriff would be furious about, but he'd needed answers. Reading it over had been the hardest thing he'd done since attending the funerals.

The files, as it turned out, hadn't been particularly helpful. It was pretty clear, according to Stiles, that the facts had been manipulated, there were a ton of inconsistencies between police reports and those of the fire department. The medical examiner hadn't bothered doing a detailed investigation either, signing off on the deaths after mere hours.

 _"He'd probably been paid off,"_ Stiles has said regretfully. _"In fact I think pretty much everyone in town was, - Except my dad."_ He added resolutely.

By the time they'd done reading they were no closer to having answers, only more questions.

With no idea what had happened, or how to find his sister, Derek attempted to focus on the present. The meal passed with less tension than their first impromptu pack dinner, though Lydia's absence was felt. Derek couldn't help but wonder why the girl was keeping her distance. Was she merely struggling to cope with the truth of what she was, or was it more human reasons? Did she dislike him? Or was her relationship with Jackson going through more trouble? He knew both from Stiles, and his own observations, that they were what his grandmother would call turbulent.

After the food was gone, the plates practically licked clean, the three teenagers cleared the dishes, on Stiles not so subtle insistence, " _T_ _he least we can do is clear up, right guys_?" He shoved Derek in the direction of the den and told him to relax.

It took nearly an hour until he was joined by the others. An hour filled with the nerve-wrenching sound of clanking China and glass, and the sound of muffled arguments. Though you wouldn't know it to look at the three of them as they strolled casually into the den and took their various seats, Stiles hurriedly claiming the space next to Derek.

Shifting nervously, at the sudden closeness, Derek felt the fire sparking to life inside him. The fire he'd tried hard to keep as nothing more than smoldering embers. Turning his head, he stared at the vast gap beside the teenager, then looked expectantly at Stiles.

"What?" He frowned, once he noticed Derek watching him.

Derek gestured with his chin to the empty half of the couch, "I brought a large couch to avoid being cramped into a corner."

Stiles glanced over, then around the room to where Isaac had claimed the lounger, Jackson propping his back against its base.

"So what are we watching?" Jackson said, elbowing Isaac's leg out of his way, forcing the other beta to twist and swing his legs over the arm.

"Oh," Stiles huffed, and shuffled over until he was pressed against the armrest, his head perched in his hand.

Derek held back a shiver at the sudden lack of extra body heat and turned his attention to Jackson, who was staring at him expectantly. "Uh," he shrugged, "I don't...I didn't...whatever," he stuttered awkwardly, jerking his shoulder nonchalantly. When he'd made the decision to reclaim Friday movie night, he'd intended to continue the tradition and watch something old, preferably black and white. He'd gone to the video store and spent over an hour just marching up and down the classics section, until he started getting the stink eye from the clerk. He settled for grabbing _**It Happened One Night**_ , as he'd missed seeing it with Nick, and _**Some Like It Hot**_ , because Stiles needed educating. It wasn't until he was at the counter that it occurred to him that Jackson and Isaac might not appreciate watching his choices, and had hurried over to the new releases, snatching a few he thought they might like. "I just grabbed some at random." He nodded to the pile on the table.

Jackson shuffled over to investigate, "As long as it's not _ **The Notebook**_ , I'll be up for anything." He huffed, shuffling through the cases, reading them out loud, " _ **Battleship**_? Really?" he looked over critically, " Everyone says it blows. "

"What did they expect, it's a classic B-movie. It's not exactly meant to be thought provoking." Stiles scoffed dismissively, his tone lacking its usual lightness.

"You've seen it? " Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged, not looking at the alpha, "I whiled away a couple of hours, what else?" he asked Jackson impatiently.

Derek frowned at Stiles dismissive tone, so much colder than it had been ten minutes earlier.

" _ **Machine**_ _**Gun**_ _**Preacher**_?"

"It looked interesting," Derek shrugged. Truthfully, he'd started getting so agitated with himself, and the clerk's suspicious stare, that he'd just grabbed stuff at random and gotten the hell out of there. Next time, he was sending Isaac.

" _ **Sam Childers (Gerard Butler), a former biker, decides to go to East Africa to help repair homes destroyed by civil wa**_ _r_. - Seriously?" Jackson scowled over at the alpha, brow raised.

"Hey, don't go dissing Butler man, " Stiles grumbled, "That guys hot, I don't care how bad the movie is." He gave a low whistle and winked at the beta.

Derek cleared his throat as Jackson growled at Stiles and tossed the DVD aside, grabbing the next, probably hoping for a better choice, and finding himself disappointed, "What the hell, Derek, _**The**_ _**Vow**_?" he snapped accusingly.

"I was expecting Lydia to be here, it looked like something she'd enjoy."

Jackson slouched, exhaling a long breath, "She thought it was alright," he muttered, "though not as good as _**The**_ _**Notebook**_. Nothing is ever as good as _ **The Notebook**_ in her eyes. Damn Ryan Gosling."

Stiles snorted, "I know, ew right? Channing is way hotter."

Derek frowned down at the teenager, "Channing? Really?" he grunted, nose wrinkling.

Stiles turned his head to meet his gaze, "What can I say, I'm a sucker for a six pack."

All the air fled Derek's lungs while Stiles determinedly held his gaze. He suddenly felt like he was burning up from the inside, a fine layer of sweat coating his back and making the thin fabric of his Hensley stick to it. Dragging his tongue across his parched lips, Derek shoved himself off the couch, "Drinks." he announced, "I forgot the drinks, everyone wants a drink, right?" he rambled, ignoring the amused tilt of Stiles lips as he hurried into the kitchen.

The back door was still wide open, allowing the evening breeze to drift through the house, though it brought with it little relief from the evening's high temperature. Derek wandered over to it, bracing his hands on the wooden frame and drawing fresh oxygen into his lungs, trying to drive away the suffocating heat in his body. Closing his eyes, he let his head drop forward, lips pressed into a thin line. Stiles was torturing him, there was no doubt about it. He knew, he had to know, how Derek felt and was doing whatever he could to mess with his head. _'What can I say, I'm a sucker for a six pack.'_ He'd said it on purpose, fully aware Derek's own body was well defined.

He shivered suddenly, his heartbeat picking up with the memory of Kate. She'd liked his body too. _'Has much as I liked your body back then, Derek, I_ love _it now.' -_ She'd dragged her nails painfully over his flesh, before dropping down to lick at his abs. She'd done that a lot while she'd held him captive. Taking advantage of his restraints to have her fun.

He cringed at the phantom touch clawing over his body, the damp heat on his neck, stomach and...

"Derek?"

He turned at the sound of his name, jerking away from the touch on his shoulder and almost tripping out of the kitchen door. "Stiles." he gasped, heart racing.

"Shit, sorry, dude, I didn't mean to startled you." he stared at Derek, brows pinched with concern. "Are you alright?"

Blinking and shaking his head, Derek shoved the memory back into the darkest corner of his mind. When the shadow of his past had gone, hidden away, he looked at the worried teenager in front of him, then over to where Isaac and Jackson stood in the doorway, both looking equally concerned.

"I'm fine," he tried to reassure, though the tremble in his voice spoke of the lie. "Did you choose a movie?" he plowed on, "Or were they all terrible choices? We don't have to..."

" _ **21 Jump Street**_." Isaac interrupted, "We're just waiting for you."

Derek frowned, not recognizing the title, "Start without me." he smiled, waving them off, "I just need to get some air," at their continued worried looks, Derek smiled reassuringly and stepped out into the dark back yard.

He leant his full weight on the porch railing, his head hanging forward again as he inhaled deeply, silently ordering his heart to stop racing.

"Was it..." Stiles said quietly from behind him, and Derek squeezed his eyes shut tighter. "Whatever I said, I'm sorry."

Exhaling loudly, Derek shoved himself away from the railing, turning to meet the teenagers brown gaze, "You don't have to apologize." he insisted firmly, "You didn't..."

"I obviously did, dude," Stiles argued, cutting him off, "You practically ran out of the room." he reminded him, voice straining.

Leaning back, Derek folded his arms over his chest and tore his gaze away, dropping it to his bare feet, "It's not you," he said after a long pause, "it's me. It's this." he raised a finger to his head, tapping the side angrily, "It's...her."

Stiles stiffened, then deflated, "Fuck," he whispered, dragging his fingers through his ruffled mane.

"I..." Derek tried, but words abandoned him. How was he meant to explain his reaction to what Stiles had said without revealing his own feelings? Even if the teenager already knew, as Derek strongly suspected he did, it would ruin everything. "I guess I'm not as ready for this as I thought." he shrugged sadly.

Stiles stared at him, and for half as second Derek expected Stiles to call him out on the lie, but then he sighed, brown eyes flickering away from him and up to the moon. "Full moon probably isn't helping?"

Derek tilted his head back, "Yeah." he agreed. It was another lie, of course. He hadn't been a slave to the moons pull since he was a child. – Except for those few months after Paige.

They fell into silence, staring up at the sky. Derek listened; the movement of animals in the woods, the brush of the soft warm breeze in the trees above them, Isaac and Jackson talking in low voices, - clearly forgetting that he can hear every word.

The loudest noise though, and the most distracting, was that of Stiles heartbeat, racing almost in time with his own. He looked over at the teenager, finding him leaning back against the side of the house, his eyes fixed on the moon, though Derek could see the struggle beneath the surface as Stiles fought not to glance his way.

"You're missing the movie?" Derek muttered finally, breaking the comfortable silence.

Stiles shrugged, "I've seen it."

"Oh," Derek sighed, turning back to look out over the backyard, "Still, Channing Tatum."

"If you want me to leave you alone, you could just say," Stiles sighed remorsefully, pushing himself off the wall and turning to leave.

"I..." he took a deep breath, pushing away from the rail, "I haven't seen it." he announced, causing Stiles to pause. "I haven't really seen anything new in years"

Looking at him, Stiles smiled. "It'll certainly help me gage your humor levels, for future reference. - But only if you're ready."

Derek inhaled sharply, his chest tightening with the knowledge that Stiles was still worrying about him. "Yeah, but... I think we'll have to leave _**Some Like It Hot**_ for another time."

The corner of Stiles lip curled, "Probably a good decision, I don't think Isaac or Jackson are ready for old black and white movies. They're not as sophisticated as me." he added loudly, winking back at him before stepping into the house.

Derek swallowed down his heart and followed. The idea of watching the movie, alone with Stiles, played in the back of his mind as he settled into the couch, the teenager a little closer, though still keeping his distance.

* * *

 **A/N: Before I go, I'd like to thank Jujukittychick for pointing out just how many mistakes and inconsistencies I'd made in the previous chapters, I've gone back, re-read and re-edited in places, and will promise to try harder in future.**

 **While re-editing the previous chapters, I had to remove or correct a few small things. Stiles does not have an eidetic memory like I first said, (had to remove it because it clashed with something I said later in the fic) and couldn't remove without ruining future plot lines.**

 **Also, it has been six months since Derek found Stiles in the bathroom (that event taking place before the summer break.)**

 **And the date arranged with Jennifer in the previous chapter will be their third day, rather than their second as stated previously.**

 **Thank you again Jujukittychick. Now I'm off to write the next chapter, hopefully it won't take as long.**


	12. Flushed

**Flushed**

As the end credits rolled on **Machine Gun Preacher** , Derek sighed contentedly and looked around. Isaac and Jackson had stretched themselves out on the floor in front of the TV after **21 Jump Street** , a bowl of popcorn set between them. Now they lay there, asleep by the looks of it, their bodies were pressed together from hip to shoulder. Jackson's head had lulled to the side resting on his folded arms, while Isaac's was buried face down. Derek smiled, turning his attention to his left. Stiles had fallen asleep to, his head set at an awkward angle, that Derek was sure was going to cause him pain when he woke up. His mouth was slightly open and there was a rather unappealing trail of drool pooling against the fabric of his couch. Derek's heart skipped a beat, and he inhaled deeply, warmth spreading through him.

It was only when he went to move that he realised Stiles' legs had migrated to his lap, his right hand still wrapped around the ankle, the thumb unknowingly moving over the skin. Derek stared at his hand for a long silent minute, watching his thumb stroke and fully registering the softness of the flesh beneath it. The warmth. The way the bones shifted as Stiles involuntarily wiggled his toes. Derek listened to his heart beating in his ears and bit at his lower lip, the fantasy flickering to life in his mind. He and Stiles, like this, forever.

A groan startled him out of his own head and he yanked his hand away, eyes shooting guiltily up to where Stiles eyes fluttered open briefly, the teenager's foot wiggling insistently in Derek's lap, "Don't stop." Stiles moaned.

As gently as he could, Derek lifted Stiles off him, jaw clenched against the heat pooling in his stomach, the flames fanned by butterflies. "It's midnight," Derek said breathlessly, his back to the teenager in hopes of concealing the slight bulge in his jeans, "You should probably be getting home. Isaac, Jackson." he knocked at Jackson's foot with his own, barely noting the way Jackson's and Isaac's legs were tangled around one another.

With a frustrated groan, Jackson lifted his head, blue eyes flashing as he turned to regard the alpha. "Uh?"

"You not sleeping there." Derek said, voice rough and tight, "Go to bed." he gestured behind him at the stairs and then left the room. He heard a muttered goodnight while opening the cupboard under the sink. "Night." he easily called back.

When he returned with a dust pan and brush to sweep up the stray popcorn from the floor and couch, Jackson and Isaac were gone, and Stiles was sat up stretching out his back and neck. Derek didn't look, focusing instead on the mess the three teenagers had left behind.

"You could do that in the morning?" Stiles said around a yawn.

Derek didn't look at him, shaking his head, "Rather do it now." It was a lie, he'd much rather leave it, but it gave him a distraction from Stiles' flushed, sleep ruffled appearance that was doing all manner of things to Derek's heart, body and mind.

"Sorry for falling asleep on you." Stiles sighed, "I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"It's fine." Derek stood, carrying the pan into the kitchen.

"I swear next time, I'll stay awake." Stiles promised, following after him.

Derek turned, looking at the young man, "Maybe if you chose the movies next time, you won't fall asleep halfway through." he smirked.

"Deal." Stiles grinned back, "I..." he looked over at the clock, "I guess I should get back."

"Yeah." Derek nodded, turning and folding his arms over his chest.

The teenager didn't move though, instead he slid his hands into his pockets and leant on the wall. "It was a good night though." Stiles eventually said.

"Yeah."

"Are you...feeling alright about it?" Stiles asked meaningfully, his gaze cautious. As if scared of triggering Derek's past.

With a reassuring smile, Derek inclined his head, "I am, thank you." Though the truth was, it had simply felt like a group of people gathering to watch TV. It was most likely because the movies were more modern, thus not reminding him of his mother.

"God, it's hot." Stiles muttered, dragging his hand across the back of his neck. "I'm beginning to think summer will never end."

"It's been a long while since we've had an Indian summer like this," Derek agreed, looking over his shoulder and out the kitchen window. "But it won't last forever. I can smell it."

"As much as the heat is killing me, man, I will miss it. This has been one of the best summers I've had in a very long time."

Derek's head snapped around, brows shooting up, "Really? Even though you weren't talking to Scott?"

With a flush, Stiles shrugged, "It wasn't that bad. Honestly, our summers haven't been that great in the past few years. Not since we were kids."

Derek swallowed, dragging his tongue across his lips, "All you did was help me build this place, not exactly a fun summer."

"Depends on your definition of fun." Stiles whispered, eyes locking with Derek's.

The pair fell into a thick silence, their gazes fixed on one another across the expanse of the kitchen. There was a small voice in the back of Derek's mind telling him to close the space. To march over there and take what he wanted. It felt as if Stiles wanted it too, the way his lips rolled together, the tip of his tongue poking out to dampen them every few seconds. Derek could hear the teenager's heart beating fast and hard, the powerful scent of Stiles' arousal tainting the warm air. It was torture that Derek didn't think he could endure much longer.

The tension was broken by the ringing of Stiles cell in the other room. Tearing his gaze away from Derek, Stiles looked over to the table where he'd left it. "I should probably get that," he muttered regretfully, pushing himself off the wall and vanishing from Derek's sight.

With him gone, Derek dragged in a lungful of oxygen and combed his handing hand through his hair. Turning to the sink, Derek twisted the faucet and ducked his head, drinking straight from the tap.

He was splashing the cold water over his face when Stiles returned. "We've got to go." he said, and there was an uptick of his heart that caused Derek to frown.

"Is everything alright?" Derek asked worriedly.

"We need to leave, now." Stiles insisted. When Derek didn't move, Stiles marched over to him, wrapping his long fingers around Derek's wrist and dragging him away.

Sparks shot up his arm, and he stared wide eyed after the teenager, "Stiles, what...?"

With a shake of his head, grabbing the alpha's car keys off the table by the door, "We really need a soundproof room in this house."

Derek inhaled sharply. It wasn't until they were outside and climbing into the car, that Stiles told him what was going on, "There's been another one."

A wave of disappointment and shame flooded over Derek, "Where?" he asked thickly, twisting the key a little more forcefully than necessary.

"Beacon Hills Museum. - The call was Lydia."

Derek's head snapped around to stare at him, "I should get Jackson?"

"No." Stiles shook his head, his fingers biting into Derek's bare bicep, "She..." The teenager glanced at the house, lowering his voice, "She doesn't want him there."

"Oh?" Derek gaped, pulling the car away from the house.

_(*-*)_/

The museum was dark when they arrived, obviously. After all it was almost 1am. There was only one security guard looking after the place, and if Stiles knew Walter as well as he thought he did, the old man was probably hauled up in his office snoozing while reruns of Gunsmoke played on the crappy portable TV. – So, maybe Stiles had whiled away a few nights hanging out in the empty museum. Okay, maybe he'd hoped to discover the exhibits, what few there were, came to life after dark.

All thoughts of magic museums vanished as he heard Derek inhaled deeply beside him and felt the alpha's body stiffen.

"Stiles?"

Lydia's voice had him turning back around. The dim lights casting long shadows all over the place, meaning it took him a few seconds to pick Lydia out of them. Stiles picked up his pace, rushing over to her. "Lydia, are you okay?" he demanded, hand resting on her shoulders in a show of concern and comfort, "What happened? "

Lydia looked off to the side, into the shadows as she answered, "I was... reading, when...I felt the pull, it drew me across town. When we got here, the back door was open and... I found him." She nodded at the dark connected room.

"Peter?" Derek searched behind him, and Stiles turned, brows risen in surprise and suspicion. "What are you doing here?" Derek demanded, stepping closer to the shadows. Stiles watched him, hands still gripping at Lydia's shoulders.

Eventually, Peter stepped out, lip curves snuggly, and hands buried comfortably in the pockets of his trousers. He looked as if it were perfectly natural for him to be strolling around a museum at night. A museum with a dead body, Stiles silently reminded.

"Derek, Stiles, glad you could make it. Come on then," He jerked his head behind him, "I'm sure our favourite amateur detective would like to see the body." He turned on his heels and strolled off, Derek and Stiles staring after him dumbfounded.

Stiles looked questioningly at Lydia, who looked flushed with embarrassment, even as she straightened her spine defensively. "Lydia?" Stiles pressed.

"He's the only one who knows what I am, and can give me answers." She snapped defensively, pulling away from Stiles.

"He came with you?" Stiles gaped, looking from his friend to Derek, but was unable to ask anything more because Lydia was storming away from him, strawberry blonde hair billowing behind her. He looked at Derek, mouth hanging open and brows knitted together in confusion.

The alpha shrugged, a look of deep concern and suspicion on his face.

"This is weird, right?" Stiles whispered.

Looking over his shoulder to where the pair had vanished around the corner, Derek nodded, "Yes."

"Should I be as worried as I am?" Stiles asked, strolling over to join Derek, "About them, I mean."

"I don't know." Derek looked down at Stiles, "I'll talk to him."

"When you say _talk_ , you mean...?"

Derek pressed his lips into a thin line and arched a brow, the intention clear. Talk meant warn. Derek would warn Peter to stay away from Lydia, and likely used threats if necessary.

"Yeah, talking is good. You _talk_ his ear off." Stiles grinned, winking at Derek.

"You should know; you do enough of it." Derek grumbled, rolling his eyes and walking off after Peter and Lydia.

Stiles couldn't stop the loud indignant sound escaping his throat, and winced as it echoed around the silent building. Quickly, he shot a look over his shoulder to where Walter would be lounging in his office, and prayed that the TV disguised it, or they'd have some serious questions to answer.

By the time he'd reassured himself that Walter wasn't going to come rushing out of his little box yelling at them, Derek was gone. Stiles hurried after him, carefully skirting around the displays, grateful for his night vision.

He found Derek stood with Lydia and Peter staring at the body hanging from the side of an old pioneer wagon, arms outstretched crucifixion style, with the head lulling forward. Quickening his pace, Stiles dashed over to get a closer look, dragging a pair of gloves out of his back pocket. He'd known it wasn't over, so he'd come prepared. Snapping the rubber against his wrists, he squinted at the corpses throat. It should probably freak him out how okay he was with standing so close to a dead body.

Gently he lifted the long hair out of the way, eyes scanning the man's neck before rifling through the hair to his scalp, where a deep indentation stared back at him. Sighing, Stiles stepped away, dropping his eyes to the clean ground. "He wasn't killed here."

"Obviously?" Peter muttered, and then made a muffled grunting noise as someone nudged him.

Stiles had no idea who, nor did he care. He looked back at the body, chewing his lip thoughtfully while wiping his bare arm over his forehead. "How did they get in past the guard?" Stiles mused.

" _We_ got in past the guard," Peter scoffed in reply.

Looking up, Stiles glared at the ex-alpha, "We're not carrying a dead body."

"We could be," Peter shot back, eyes flashing blue in the darkness.

Stiles straightened, tugging off his gloves before flipping Peter off, "Can someone kill him, again."

Derek huffed out a laugh and grinned, "If I thought he'd stay dead, I'd consider it."

There was a low growl that resonated from Peter but no one paid any attention. "We should get out of here," Stiles sighed, tugging out his phone and glancing at the time, "Walter will be doing his rounds in a few minutes, and the last thing we need is to be found standing next to a dead body. – Again." He looked directly at Lydia as he spoke.

With a nod of agreement, Derek and Lydia turned to leave, Peter hovering a second longer, Stiles stared at him suspiciously. "You coming?" Stiles asked, quirking a brow and waving his arm for Peter to take the lead. He wasn't foolish enough to leave his back exposed to the man, even if he could defend himself from an attack.

"This isn't over; you know that?" Peter whispered, looking from Stiles to the body. "It's barely begun."

Stiles sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair, "I know."

_(*-*)_/

"I think it's time to tell my dad," Stiles said wearily as the SUV pulled to a stop in front of the house. "Whether he's ready to hear it or not."

"Do you...? " Derek tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, "I can be there, if you'd think it would help."

Stiles stared at the dark house silently, his head already beginning to ache from the impending conversation, and the world altering consequences. "That would be great," he replied absently.

"Okay, call me when he gets home, or I could come in a wait."

Stiles head snapped around as Derek's offer settled into his brain, "Oh, uh...Don't you had a date?"

Derek met his gaze, corner of his mouth curling slightly. "This is more important." He replied, shaking his head and reaching for Stiles hand where it tapped out an agitated rhythm against his thigh.

Stiles stared down at their linked hands and inhaled deeply, raising his eyes to meet the alpha's, his tongue moving nervously between his lips.

They sat there in the darkened car, the tension thick with unspoken desire, Derek's fingers warm against Stiles own. Sweat pooled in the hollow of Stiles throat and coated his back, causing his t-shirt to stick unpleasantly. But it was all irrelevant at that moment.

 _Just do it._

 _I can't._

 _You know he likes you._

 _And if he doesn't? If I'm just imagining it? Projecting my own feelings on him._

 _Come on, dude, it's obvious. Just do something._

 _I can't. He's not ready._

 _He looks pretty ready._

And it was true. Derek's eyes fluttered to his lips every few seconds and the man's thumb was stroking slowly across his knuckles. Everything said it was the perfect moment to go in for a kiss, but... He just couldn't.

 _Are you insane!_

Stiles shook his head, angrily blocking out any further argument from his mind. As much as he wanted to close the gap between them and make a bid for Derek's heart, his conscience wouldn't let him. Derek's issues were huge and important, and Stiles wasn't going to be the one to rack up yet more self-loathing and pain. He'd seen the look in Derek's eyes earlier, and despite what the alpha had said, he knew it had little to do with his mom. Whatever Stiles had jokingly said had brought up things Derek wasn't ready to deal with.

With that in mind, and with so much regret it physically hurt, Stiles pulled his hand free and turned to shove open the car door. " I'll call you when he gets in," he said, climbing out, then turning back to Derek, unable to meet his eyes. "It'll probably be pretty late; he's going to have his hands full with the body at the museum."

"Right. " Derek replied stiffly, staring out at the empty street.

There was an uncomfortable silence that hadn't been there before, and Stiles shifted his feet, kicking at the gravel with the toe of his sneaker, his forearms resting on the rolled down car window.

"I should probably get back to the house, tell Jackson and Isaac about the latest body."

"Don't mention Peter. "

Derek shot him a withering look that had Stiles lifting his hands in self-defence and taking half a step back. "I'll see you later."

Sighing, Stiles nodded, "Yeah. Thanks for a great night."

"You're welcome." Derek said rigidly, restarting the car and pulling away from the curb.

 _Well done. We're back to square one._

Stiles exhaled a long tired breath as he watched the car's rear lights travel further and further away, "He'll thank me for it one day." He muttered to himself.

 _Sure, in his wedding speech. "Jennifer and I wouldn't be here today if not for Stiles having the courage to not kiss me in a dark car"._

"Oh, shut up." He scolded himself furiously, marching off towards the door. "It was your fault I kept chasing after Lydia when she obviously didn't want me. I'm not going to let you do it to me again."

 _Yeah, well she's obviously got terrible taste in men. Jackson. Peter._

 _You think her and Peter are...?_

 _No,_ you _think her and Peter are..._

The sound of a bike engine had Stiles spinning to stare into the dark, a cold sweat breaking out over his flesh. He held his breath, body right and ready for any attack.

None came. The sound died off into the distance and Stiles figured it had gone in the other direction, away from his house. He let out the breath he was holding, but there was no relief.

_(*-*)_/

 _It was probably for the best_ , Derek thought as he drove home. He'd been too close to giving into temptation, the feel of Stiles fingers in his own had felt too comfortable, too right, that for those long few seconds that had felt more like hours, he'd contemplated throwing away all his doubts and worries about Stiles and what it would mean to start something with him, and just go for it. Simply closed that space between them and take the chance.

A part of him rationalised it. Told himself, Stiles wanted it. – And he did, Derek knew that. But the question was, what exactly did Stiles want? Did he want Derek for his appalling leadership qualities, terrible taste in movies, and overall fucked-up-ness, or did he simply want Derek for his body?

He was doing the teenager an injustice, he knew, but the doubt was still there. He _was_ 16\. A single, lonely teenager, who as far as Derek had been able to gather, had never had any kind of relationship before. He'd spent half his life besotted with Lydia, and whatever hopes he'd had about gaining the young woman's affection hadn't long been laid to rest. Derek knew all too well that it wasn't so easy getting over people. – Though, losing Paige was completely different to Stiles losing the dream of Lydia.

The fact remained, decisions made while heartbroken were dangerous. They could easily lead a person down a dark, destructive path. Especially when those decisions involved an unscrupulous adult. So yes, stopping whatever was happening between him and Stiles was for the best.

 _For now, at least._

_(*-*)_/

Instead of going straight to bed, Stiles spent the next few hours worrying.

Worrying about the latest murder and how it didn't fit the pattern he'd built in his head, because sure, there'd been a fourth murder, but the body hadn't been at the high school.

Why hadn't it been at the high school?

Why so long between the last murder and the new one?

He worried about the fact that he'd allowed himself to forget there was someone, an X5, out there attempting to kidnap his friends. Were the two things connected? It was possible. Crazy came in all shapes and sizes. Maybe Erica and Boyd's disappearance had nothing to do with Derek at all. Maybe it was about him. Boyd and Erica had been… Okay, they hadn't been friends, but Stiles had spent a lot of time with them over the past year, and maybe someone thought they would be a good way to get to him.

That thought sent a cold shiver through Stiles, and he hurried over to the window, looking out at the dark back yard, as if expecting to find a super-secret SWAT team preparing to raid the house. With a sigh of relief, Stiles combed his fingers through his thick hair and groaned.

Everything was so tangled. The murders, the mysterious X5, he feared it would take him too long to sort through it, meaning a lot more people would get hurt before he did. People he cared about.

Or worse, he'd never untangle the mess and everyone would die.

Once he'd finished worrying about the possibilty of a super-secret stalker, who may or may not be kidnapping and killing people, Stiles thoughts turned to Lydia and her apparent new best buddy. The thought of her hanging out, by choice, with Peter Hale was… disconcerting to say the least. It was made even worse by the fact that Lydia was doing so secretly. Why?

She's said that Peter was the only one that could give her answers, and Stiles would have to reluctantly concede that yes, Peter knew more about the supernatural than he did, but still, going to Peter of all people after everything he'd done, after leaving her in a coma for almost two weeks, was not something Stiles would expect from Lydia. No matter how desperate she was. Which led to the more disturbing question, why wasn't she telling Jackson? Better yet, why was she pushing him away?

Granted, Stiles knew things hadn't been all that perfect between them since they'd returned to school. He's seen them arguing in the corridors and the parking lot, but that's what couples did, right? – And sure, okay, Lydia and Jackson's relationship hadn't always been that... _perfect_. Their break up had been brutal, especially for Lydia, and he knew better than anyone how little Jackson had appreciated her. How she'd dumbed herself down so as not to humiliate Jackson in front of their peers.

But really, how was Peter any better?

As much as he'd like to believe that it was just about getting answers, Stiles knew Lydia. Better than many people did he thought, and there'd been something in the way she'd looked at Peter as they'd stood in the dark outside the museum, Stiles insisting that they drive her home, that had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, and an uncomfortable twist to his heart.

Stiles could admit he was a little bitter. It was difficult to accept that Lydia would rather spend her time doing whatever it was she was doing, with someone as all-round assholey as Peter Hale, over _him_. He'd accepted that he didn't have a chance against Jackson, because they'd been together for so long. She loved Jackson. Jackson had been her first… everything, and so while it had broken his heart to watch her go back to him, he'd understood it. – But Peter. How the hell was he losing out to…Peter?

Stiles yanked off his t-shirt, tossing on the laundry pile and sat on the edge of his bed, kicking off his shoes, while stretching out across the mattress, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Perhaps Peter was doing some evil werewolf mojo on her? He considered with concern. Like last time. – Except what had happened to Lydia post bite had nothing to do with Peter, apparently. Stiles frowned, chewing the inside of his lip. It had all been her banshee powers that had made her go a little…off the reservation.

Scooting out of his jeans and moaning at the heat slowly licking up his body, Stiles tossed them over to join his shirt. Grabbing his phone first and staring at the time. **3:27am**. "How can there be no sun and still be this hot?" he grumbled to himself, lowering the phone and closing his eyes.

His mind drifted back to Lydia and Peter, and he wondered what he was missing. By all logic, Lydia shouldn't want to be anywhere near Peter after her attack, and yet she was sneaking around to see him. _For how long?_ He suddenly wondered. "Weeks," he whispered, "Ever since she found out about her Banshee-ness." It had to be. _How many questions could she possibly have?_

There was something more worrying than Lydia's apparently awful taste in men. Jackson.

Or more accurately, how it was going to the effect the pack when Jackson found out, because Jackson wasn't exactly the calmest person in the world, and now he was a damn werewolf. – A werewolf who'd already gone dark side once.

How did packs deal with this kind of thing, Stiles wondered. Affairs happened, right? Were there pack rules?

That said, Peter wasn't pack, so it shouldn't be too bad. – Except pack or not, like it or not, he was still Derek's uncle, which was bound to cause tensions.

Actually, crazed murders and stalker transgenics were sounding better by the second.

Stiles sighed wearily, and stretched his spine, dragging his hand down his sweaty chest to rest on his stomach. The soft hair of his happy trail playing at his fingertips.

Thoughts of the pack inevitably took his mind to Derek, and their confusing relationship. It was hard to believe now that he'd ever thought of the guy as a creepy murdering werewolf, because Derek was far from creepy. He'd met creepy. Peter. Matt. He knew creepy and Derek was decidedly _not_ creepy.

He was just a social awkward mess with no concept of normal human interactions, or how to express his feelings without violence. Stiles wondered if that was down to Kate too.

Derek was just…

He was like…

Yeah, he was like the Hulk. Derek Hale was the Incredible Hulk of Beacon Hills. Lou Ferrigno was his spirit guide. Stiles snorted out loud. He stomps around smashing his way through life, barely saying two words, preferring to grunt and glare at anyone stupid enough to get in his way.

But under that shirtless, muscular physic was Bruce Banner, weighed down with guilt and self-loathing, tormented by his mistakes and trying day after day to make a mends, only to have all his good intentions destroyed by his own demons.

Stiles opened his eyes, staring sadly up at the ceiling, his chest aching at the realisation. He reached blindly for his phone and lifted it over his face, staring at the image of the house for a few minutes, before opening the device and pulling up Derek's contact. The small spur of the moment photo he'd snapped weeks ago, of Derek smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling, stared down at him, and Stiles felt his chest ache with regret.

He gazed up at it, mind replaying that relaxed happy moment across a diner table, until his eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and sleep finally took hold.

_(*-*)_/

Derek hated the heat, or at least this kind of heat. He'd woken stuck to the cushions of the couch, sweat coating his body. At least he'd had the good sense to strip out of his clothes before crashing.

Rubbing wearily at his eyes, and wincing as the bright sunlight poured in through the large window at his back, Derek pushed himself up and wiped the damp from the back of his neck. While his body was naturally able to adapt to his environment, the joys of being a werewolf, he wasn't immune to the effects of extreme weather. It was why he'd hated New York in winter. So he was currently suffering through the heatwave with the rest of Beacon Hills.

The sound of movement and two heartbeats from the next room caught Derek's attention as he approuched the kitchen. He could hear the pair talking in quiet muffled voices, but didn't pay them any attention as he made his way to the refrigerator.

Yanking open the door, Derek reached for the large unopened bottle of orange juice and chugged it down. When it was empty, he sighed and closed his eyes, savouring the cool air playing over his still damp skin.

"So, you and Stiles have a good night?" Jackson asked behind him, his tone amused and suggestive.

Turning, somewhat startled despite knowing the pair were there, Derek glanced between them, his face suddenly feeling twice as hot as it had a few seconds ago. Jackson sat, twisted in his seat, watching him expectantly, brow raised, while Isaac sat looking equally as amused, though a little more sheepish, the sun painting his blonde curls in a halo of light.

Derek looked between them, before settling his full attention on Jackson. A part of him considered letting them believe whatever they wanted, if only to avoid the inevitable anger that would come from telling Jackson the truth, but he'd promised himself that he wouldn't keep secrets from his pack. – Not again. – So, he squared his shoulders and braced his feet, "There was another murder." He informed them matter-of-factly. "At the museum." He pushed the refrigerator door closed and carried the now empty bottle over to the recycling, feeling the pairs eyes on him every step of the way.

"Lydia?" Jackson asked, his voice filled with tension.

Turning to lean back against the counter, Derek nodded, preparing for the anger. The demand to know why he and Stiles hadn't taken him with them. Instead Jackson shot out of his chair, breakfast forgotten completely as he dashed out of the kitchen. Derek watched him go, surprised by the silence. When he glanced over at Isaac, he found the teenager staring down into his bowl, an eerily familiar look on his face. It was the same look he' likely had on his own face when Stiles had rejected him only a few hours ago.

It didn't take much to put the pieces together, and honestly, it wasn't a surprise to him. At least the fact that Isaac was interested in guys wasn't. While they hadn't discussed it, Derek had his suspicions. He'd figured Isaac had developed a crush on Scott a while ago. Though in hindsight he probably should have talked to Isaac about it, especially in light of recent events.

It wasn't that he thought Scott had used Isaac's infatuation, he hoped the boy wasn't that vindictive, but it had certainly made it easier for him to get into Isaac's head. And now, it looked like Isaac had transferred his feelings from Scott to Jackson, which wasn't any better. This time he'd have to say something, because this time it was a genuine risk to the packs stability.

The sound of hurried heavy footsteps on the stairs drew both their attention, and they looked up expectantly, only for Jackson to never return to the kitchen. Instead Derek watched from his place at the counter, as Jackson hurriedly yanked open the front door and vanished through it, not even bothering to close it behind him. – And without so much as a by your leave.

Derek looked over to Isaac, watching as the teenager's shoulders slumped and he slowly got to his feet. "Isaac?" he began quietly, but Isaac's hand came up, silencing him.

The beta looked at him only briefly, face flushed with embarrassment, and clearly indicating he didn't want to talk about it. As he crossed the kitchen, Derek's eyes landed on the distinctive purplish bruise on the boy's neck and he gritted his teeth. Perhaps it was Jackson he needed to have words with.


	13. Heat

**Heat**

 _Derek stood glaring at him, chest glistening with sweat in the sunlight, his torn pants barely clinging to his hips. The bulge of his erection obvious to everyone around them._

 _Stepping closer, he reached out, gripping Stiles arms and pulling him flush to his body with a low growl, "Hulk fuck."_

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. " Stiles chanted, his back arching off the mattress.

He had always considered it weird how hot weather made him horny. Well, hornier than usual. If anything he'd expect the idea of two bodies moving together, sweat dripping off them, unappealing in the middle of a heat wave, yet here he was, blanketed by late summer heat, stretched out of his damp sheets, with his cock in his hand, and the image of a shirtless muscle bound Derek playing behind his closed eyelids, in the middle of the day.

 _Stiles' back hit the wall, Derek body hard and close, intent in his flashing green eyes as he ripped Stiles black latex bodysuit clean from his skin. Stiles gasped as the Hulk's large hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in rough angry motions._

He cried out, lower back and hips no longer touching the bed, as he came. Streaks of thick cum painting his sweaty chest and stomach. When he was spent, he let his soiled hand fall away from his overly sensitive dick. Blindly wiping the remains off on his damp bedsheet and listened to his heart beating loud and hard in his ears.

When he's finally back on earth Stiles feels a rush of guilt and embarrassment. It wasn't the first time he'd jacked off to thoughts of Derek, but somehow it felt creepy now they were friends.

Pushing himself up off the bed with a disgusted wince, he ripped the sheet, yanking it free of his mattress and rolling it into a tight ball before tossing it in the corner. With that done he padded down the hall to the bath for his second shower of the day.

His morning had been spent looking into the history of the museum, trying to find a link between it and the school, but had come up empty handed. Before it had been taken over by the town's historical society it had been a general store and before that a livery stables and blacksmith. There hadn't been anything particularly weird or supernatural about the place. It didn't lay on any fault lines or whatever. It seemed to have been picked at random, though Stiles knows that's not true. There's a reason, he just can't see what it is.

Frustrated and too hot to focus, Stiles had drifted back to his bed where he'd lain staring up at his ceiling, Derek easily drifting to the forefront of his thoughts, the fantasies swiftly following.

Stiles washed away the evidence of those fantasies and left his head fall forward, the cold water pounding against the back of his neck. A fresh daydream tried to encroach but Stiles determinedly pushed it to the back of his mind. He couldn't all his mind to be swallowed up by erotic, or even blissfully domestic, thoughts of Derek. Not if he was going to have to face him in a few hours.

He'd considered putting off telling his dad, but he feared it might prove a fatal error if he did. His dad needed to know what was out there. What was possibly behind these murders. So no matter how difficult it was going to be, he was going to do it, and Derek was going to be right there for show and tell.

_(*-*)_/

The day passed slowly. After Jackson had left, Isaac shut himself away in his room, music turned up loud, leaving Derek alone with no idea how he was meant to approach the situation brewing between the two teenagers. Especially when he couldn't even get his own love life on track. He contemplated going to see Peter to discuss the state of affairs with Lydia, just as he promised Stiles he would, but he was no more eager to talk to his uncle about that relationship as he was to talk to Jackson and Isaac, so instead he grabbed a shower, changed into the loosest shirt he had, dragged on a pair of basketball shorts and made himself a fresh jug of lemonade. Then he set himself up on the front porch and just watched the morning turn to afternoon.

As the minutes became hours, the heat became nearly unbearable and Derek was stripped down to just his shorts and was stretched out on the porch swing, eyes closed and mind wandering.

As it tended to do now, his mind only wandered to one place, Stiles. He replayed the events of the previous evening. The irrational anger he'd felt at Stiles drooling over a Hollywood actor. Yes, it had touched a nerve, Kate's attraction to his body and the way it made him feel, would always leave him feeling raw in ways he could never fully explain to anyone. – Not even Stiles. – But it had also been rooted in something far more simple. Something primal. Jealousy. There was a defensive voice in the back of his mind that wanted to know what was wrong with him. Why Stiles wasn't drooling over him, wasn't praising his body. It was ridiculous and pathetic, but it was how he'd felt.

Then they'd spoken, Stiles had apologized for something that wasn't really even his fault, and then they'd gone back inside and lost themselves in the movies. Neither of them speaking. – Okay, Stiles spoke. Stiles rarely shut up. Giving his commentary throughout the movies until he'd finally talked himself to sleep, and that's when his feet had migrated across the couch to Derek's lap, and Derek hadn't even realised. It had felt so natural that he'd just lowered his hand to rest on the teenager's bare ankle and let it infuse him with a sense of calm.

Then it had all changed. They'd gotten the phone call from Peter, found yet another body and when he'd driven Stiles home, they'd almost kissed. He'd looked into that worried brown eyes and he'd come so close to leaning over and pressing his lips to Stiles. And he knew, of course he knew, that Stiles had felt it too. It was loud and clear in the teenager's heartbeat, crisp and clean on his scent, but then Stiles had pulled away, breaking whatever spell that moment had created around them, and while Derek had felt humiliated and hurt, he'd returned home and realised that Stiles had done the right thing for both of them.

Letting the swing rock back and forth in the Indian Summer heat, Derek opened his eyes and stared up at the brilliant white wood of the porch roof and wiped at his damp forehead. In the last few hours, replaying not only the previous evening over in his head, but his whole life, Derek had come to a realisation. He couldn't keep avoiding the truth; he had feelings for Stiles, deep _real_ feelings. It wasn't just a physical attraction; it was more substantial than that. What had captured Derek's attention right from the beginning wasn't Stiles body. - Because it was hard to judge what it was even like under all those layers, he smirked to himself. – It was his soul, as ridiculously sentimental and corny as that sounded.

There was a strength in Stiles that perfectly complimented and balanced Derek's own, while bolstering Derek's weaknesses, and together they worked as a stronger unit. It was just as his mother used to describe her relationship with his father. Ying and Yang.

Without even realizing it, Derek had been looking to emulate his parent's happy, strong relationship, but no one had ever seen beneath the mask. He'd almost found it with Paige, he thought. She'd seen past his bullshit, though not quite deep enough. Not until the end.

Shaking his head and swallowing at the lump that memories of her always conjured, Derek took a sip of his drink, nose wrinkling at the warmth of the lemonade. Throwing himself up onto his feet, he padded back into the house to get a fresh drink and take a few seconds to stand in front of the refrigerator and allow the cold air to play over his damp back and chest.

With a cold beer in hand, Derek headed back outside. Instead of returning to the swing, he made himself comfortable on the steps, his back pressed to the post as he stared at the tree line. Inhaling deeply, Derek closed his eyes and lifted the glass to his lips.

That desire, he thought in hindsight, was probably what had led him right into Kate's clutches too. She'd been everything he thought he wanted. Strong, confident. She'd seemed accepting of what he was, going as far as to encourage him to fully embrace the beast within, and he tried to live up to her idea of him, became harsher, colder. His 16-year-old self, made Jackson look like an angel in comparison. He'd been cocky before, but Kate had turned him into a person he didn't like to look back on.

But he'd never been able to go quite far enough for her, never quite allowed himself to fully let go of his soul. It made Derek shiver now, to wonder just what Kate had wanted him to become. Her strength had been all based on hatred and pain. Nothing like his mother.

As for Nick, in all honesty, the man hadn't even been a consideration, and by the time they'd met, Derek was a shell with no desire for anything, let alone love and a family of his own. His dream of a normal happy future had died with his parents, and he'd never imagined for a second that he'd find it again.

Then he'd returned to Beacon Hills, the place of his greatest shame, and there in a golden damp forest was his second chance.

Stiles fit so perfectly Derek could almost believe they'd been cut from the same cloth, and yes, he realized how ridiculous that sounded, but it felt true. Stiles never backed down, never stepped away, and never allowed Derek to disappear within himself. He pushed his way through every wall Derek put up, and stood firmly on the threshold refusing to be moved. He'd stopped Derek from drowning both figuratively and literally. He was everything Derek wanted and _needed_ , his perfect counterweight.

There was just one problem, just one thing that stopped Derek from grabbing hold and never letting go.

While Derek had come to realise what he felt for Stiles was nowhere close to the twisted darkness Kate had wrapped him in, the fact that Stiles was still only 16 weight too heavily on Derek's shoulders to simply dismiss out of hand. – That said however, he couldn't ignore how he felt any longer, and he couldn't keep trying to move on with someone else. It wasn't fair on anyone, especially not Jennifer. She was a nice woman, she deserved to find someone who actually wanted her. She didn't deserve to be someone's convenient alternative.

As for Stiles, well, Derek would just have to hope the teenager felt the same way in a couple of years.

With his head finally clear, Derek finished the last of his beer and pushed himself up. He couldn't put making the call off any longer.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles spent the rest of his day planning out the conversation with his dad, over and over in his head. Working through different scenarios, many of which ending with his dad putting a bullet in Derek. That was something he really wanted to avoid, if at all possible. - Though it would make a great story for the grandkids _. "And that was grandpa's reaction to discovering daddy was a werewolf."_

Shaking his head, he shoved that thought violently away. Now was not the time to be getting distracted by his feelings for the alpha, he had a talk to deliver. With that in mind, Stiles pulled out all the information he'd been collecting on werewolves the last year, printed out diagrams and charts. He even set up his chessboard to help describe the current hierarchy. Derek's name proudly scrawled across a small strip of purple paper and attached to the King.

He looked down at the small white tab with his own name and looked at the pieces, unsure where to place himself. Did he even belong on the board? He wasn't a supernatural being like Derek, Scott and Lydia, and neither was he a hunter like Chris and Allison. So he had no idea where he fit, but despite that, he felt like he was meant to be there, somewhere.

Before he could make up his mind where to stick his name, he heard the front door and felt his heart leap into his throat. Getting to his feet, Stiles stuck the paper on the nearest piece to hand and reached for his cell. He opened up his messenger and quickly typed, while marching to the bedroom door. In hindsight, it would probably have been better if he'd arranged for Derek to be there before his dad got home, to avoid having to wait.

 **Dad's home. Come ASAP.**

His dad was sat on the lounger, his eyes were closed and the buttons to his short sleeved work shirt were almost all undone. He looked flushed, tired and completely worn down, and Stiles felt another wave of guilt about the weight he would soon be adding to his father's shoulders. "Dad?" he greeted worriedly.

John waved his hand, "I'm fine Stiles." he replied, though his tone said the opposite.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Stiles moved closer to the couch, "How was work?" he asked absurdly, because he knew how work was. It was hard and stressful, and he had yet another murder case hanging over his head.

"Tiring." His dad replied with a sigh, "How was your day?"

Stiles shrugged, even though his dad wasn't looking at him, "Hot." he scoffed, "Spent most of it in the shower."

"Hmm, that sounds like an excellent idea." Finally, John opened his eyes and pushed himself up off the lounger, dragging his languid body across the room, "I think I'll do that."

Stiles opened his mouth to stop him, only to slam it closed once more. His father taking a shower was actually an excellent idea. He'd be cooled, relaxed and hopefully more willing to hear the truth about their town and its residence. - Not to mention it would give Derek enough time to get there. "Great idea," he finally stammered out. "I'll order take out."

John narrowed his eyes at his son suspiciously, "Take out? What did you do?"

Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed, "Nothing, dad." _at least not in the last 24 hours,_ he didn't add. "It's too hot to cook."

"Too hot? - For Salad?" John's brow raised and folded his arm over his chest.

"Do you really want salad after the day you've had?" Stiles smirked, "Wouldn't you rather have a nice burger and fries?"

"Okay, see now I know you're up to something." John straightened, his suspicious look turning to one of concern, with just a hint of fear.

Stiles flung up his hands, "I swear, I haven't done anything... wrong."

"But you've done... _something_?"

Lowering his hands and his head, Stiles sighed, "I want to talk to you about something. Something important, but I want you to be in a good mood before I do so you don't... shoot someone." When he looked up, he found his dad's eyes narrow and burning intensely into him.

"Is this about...Derek Hale?" he asked cautiously.

"Kinda," Stiles shrugged again, shoving his hands back into his pockets. There was something in the way his dad was looking at him, that sent a strange thrill through his chest, "Not like that though," he added, tone thick with regret. He pressed his lips into a thin line to hold back his desire to tag on _'not yet anyway'_. "Just go take a shower, I'll order food and then we'll talk, okay?"

John stared at him for a long few seconds before exhaling tiredly and trudging off to the bathroom. Stiles dragged out his phone, shooting off another text to Derek before turning his attention to take out.

 **You have twenty minutes.**

_(*-*)_/

 **Dad's home. Come ASAP**

Derek stared down at the incoming message with an air of trepidation. His previous meetings with the Sheriff hadn't gone all that well, mostly because whenever they came face to face there was usually a body nearby, and Derek couldn't deny the man's mistrust was justified.

Hopefully though, after their conversation, that might improve. At least the Sheriff would understand what was going on, and why he was hanging around. Maybe, if he was lucky, they could build some kind of relationship. One of mutual respect. One that would make a future with Stiles far less stressful.

With that thought swimming around in his head, Derek grabbed his trainers and lowered himself on the steps to slip them on. "Isaac, we're going out!" he yelled, needing to get his voice over the music the teenager hadn't stopped listening to all day. " _Isaac_!" he repeated loudly.

"What?" Isaac yelled back over the banister, "I don't want to go out."

Tilting his head back, Derek met the boy's gaze and lifted an impatient brow. "I'm not leaving you in the house alone, so get your shoes on and get your ass in the car." he ordered firmly, voice trembling with a subtle growl.

Isaac stared down at him for a few seconds before huffing angrily and marching back into his room. Derek half expected the door to slam shut behind him, remembering Laura's tantrums. The screaming, the slamming. His mother's loud growl and red eyes. As a kid, he'd thought it was all so overly dramatic and uncalled for, now...oh, now he understood perfectly.

He was preparing to yelled some more when the music cut off, and a second later Isaac was stomping petulantly down the stairs. Derek couldn't help but smile. As ridiculous as it was, seeing Isaac behave like a normal moody teenager left a warm glow in his heart. The boy had been so broken when he'd found him, and then had tried to play the role of tough strong werewolf, so much so he'd almost lost himself beneath the mask. - But this was Isaac. The real Isaac. No longer cowering with fear, nor forcing himself to be strong. Just a normal teenager, with normal emotions.

"What are you grinning at?" Isaac grunted, frowning at him.

Derek shook his head, "Nothing." he huffed, stepping past the teenager and grabbing his wallet and car keys, then yanked open the front door and froze.

"D-Del."

"Cora?" he gasped, leaping forward to catch his sister as she crumpled. "Cora?"

Scooping her up, Derek carried her hurriedly into the den, settling her down on the couch and kneeling beside her. She was burning up, and her face was glistening with sweat. Beneath it Derek could see the bruise on her cheek and the cut to her lip. He swallowed convulsively and dragged his trembling hand through her hair.

"What's wrong with her?" Isaac asked from behind him.

Derek shook his head, "I... I don't know." he whispered, "I..."

"I'll call Stiles." Isaac announced hurriedly.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles paced the living room nervously, once again rehearsing just what he was going to say to his hand. When his phone rang on the coffee table, Stiles jerked in surprise and managed to trip over his own feet. Scrambling over to grab the phone, he frowned down at Isaac's name. Fear curled itself around his heart and he jabbed his finger violently down on the screen and lifted it to his ear. "Isaac? What's happened?"

 _"Cora's here?"_

A cold shiver ran down his spine at the announcement. _Shit_. "Is Derek...?" He didn't get to finish his question as Isaac's worried voice cut across him.

 _"She doesn't look good. She's all beaten up and... She's not healing."_

 _Double shit._ "Derek?"

 _"He's with her."_

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Stiles snapped, "Tell Derek I'm coming, and Isaac? Be careful." He hung up and hurried upstairs to his room, shoving his feet into his trainers. When he looked up it was to the sight of his dad appearing around the door.

"Stiles?"

"Sorry Dad, emergency. We'll have to postpone out talk, dinner's on the way." He said in a rush of breathless words as he hurried past his father.

"What emergency? Is it Scott?"

"No." Stiles called back, rushing to the stairs. He was stopped from flying down them by his dad's hand wrapping tightly around his bicep.

"Stiles, what's happening?"

He stared into his father's worried blue eyes and took a deep breath, his mind working a mile a minute. Cora was at the house and apparently sick, but she was obviously working for the person doing the murders, so why was she there? Was it a trap? Had she run away from the murderer? Did she know where Erica and Boyd were? She was the key to getting answers and from what Isaac had said, she wasn't doing so well.

And he needed to tell his dad. His dad needed to know what was going on in the town, but he needed to get to Derek's, but he didn't have a car, dammit, he'd have to run, in daylight and there was that mysterious biker still out there, still looking for him.

"Stiles!" His dad yelled, giving him a rough shake.

"I need you to drive me to Derek's place." Stiles snapped, vibrating impatiently.

"What?"

"The Hale house, you need to drive me there." he repeated, "Then I'll tell you _everything_."

There was a long minute of silence where Stiles was sure his dad was going to refuse, maybe even ground him, but instead and with a world weary sigh, his dad nodded, "Okay. Let's go."

_(*-*)_/

Tears burned at Derek's eyes as he watched his sister, her whole body was trembling as if cold but she was hot to the touch. "Cora." He whispered softly, his hand stroking over her hair. "It's Del, you're safe."

"Derek?" Isaac said behind him, and when he looked up the teenager was holding out a damp cloth. Smiling gratefully, Derek pressed the cold fabric to his sister's head. "Stiles is on his way." Isaac informed him.

A weight instantly lifted off his heart at the announcement and he nodded. "Thanks."

"D-Del?" Cora croaked out, voice weak. When her eyes fluttered open, the irises beneath were blue and Derek felt his stomach clench painfully.

"I'm here. You're safe."

"I…" she swallowed, her tongue poking out to wet her lips but it was clearly not helping.

"Isaac?" Derek turned but the beta was already disappearing into the kitchen, and he felt a fresh wave of gratitude. He turned back to his sister, "What happened, sweetheart?"

Cora's nose wrinkled at the pet name, "You were dead." She whispered after a long moment. "She said…" her voice broke and she began to cough viciously.

Isaac reappeared with perfect timing, holding out the glass. Derek took it with a muttered thank you and held it up to his sister's lips, "Sip it. Slowly." The cold water seemed to help ease the irritations in Cora's throat and she gasped breathlessly as she pushed his arm away. Lowering her back down, Derek set the glass on the table, when he turned back to his sister, her eyes were closed again.

_(*-*)_/

The second the patrol car pulled out outside, Stiles shoved open the door and leapt out, sprinting up to the house without so much as a word to his father. He knew the man would follow, if only out of curiosity.

He burst through the front door and around the archway that lead into the den to find Derek sat on the floor beside the couch. Stretched out on the cushions was an unconscious young woman that Stiles could only assume was Cora. Derek's head was resting on the edge of the couch, his hands wrapped around Cora's own. Slowly Stiles moved closer, shooting Isaac a reassuring smile.

Laying his hand on Derek's shoulder, the alpha looked up, eyes red-rimmed and filled with fear. "Hey." Stiles whispered, squeezing the man's shoulder lightly before turning to get a better look at Cora. "Have you called anyone?"

Derek shook his head, "Like who? I can't send her to the hospital."

"Stiles?"

He turned to see his dad hovering on the threshold of the room, brows pinched together with confusion and concern as he took in the situation. Stiles sighed, but didn't give his dad any explanations, instead he simply turned to Isaac and ordered, "Call Melissa, and Deaton."

Derek looked up at him, "What?"

"Clearly something's wrong with her, she's obviously not healing which means…"

"Stiles, what's going on here?"

Taking a deep breath, Stiles gave Derek's shoulder another reassuring squeeze, then turned. "Okay Dad, you might want to sit down for this." He squared his shoulders and gestured to the chair Isaac had vacated. Reluctantly Stiles stepped away from Derek and over to his dad, gently taking his arm and steering him to the chair, then he perched himself on the edge of the coffee table. "This is going to be hard for you to believe, but you have to trust me dad. Okay?"

John's gaze flickered over to where Derek hadn't moved from his sister's side, and he gritted his teeth, "What have you gotten yourself involved in Stiles?" He sighed, shaking his head.

With his dad settled, Stiles decided it would be better to just dive right in, so he did. He opened his mouth and simply let it all flow free. When it was done, his dad was sat staring at him with a look of bewilderment and disbelief. Isaac had returned and was leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Cora was still unconscious, sweat peppering her forehead, and Derek was frozen in the spot at her side, anxiously looking from her to Stiles.

"Okay, so…" John looked around the room, shifting awkwardly under the three pairs of watchful eyes. "Derek and Isaac are…werewolves?" he drew the word out like he was trying to speak a foreign language.

"Yes." Stiles nodded, looking over to the couch, "Derek's an Alpha, and Isaac's his beta." He said again, a little slower this time. "Along with Erica, Boyd and Jackson."

"But Jackson's a Kanima."

" _Was_ a Kanima." Isaac said with a strange tightness to his voice that made Stiles frown and glance over questioningly to Derek.

The alpha's attention was too focused on his sister though, so Stiles turned back to regard his father. "He was a Kanima, but then Peter and Derek killed him and he came back to life as a werewolf."

His dad's eyes widened and Stiles flinched, maybe he should have left out the killing part. At least in regards to Derek. After a few seconds, his attention returned to Stiles. "And Kate Argent was a werewolf?"

"Hunter." Derek grunted softly from the couch.

"Amongst other things." Stiles added with a sneer, shooting Derek a sad regretful smile.

"Along with Allison and her father," Isaac said quickly, "I mean, hunters, not…." He looked briefly at Derek, then dropped his gaze.

"They're the good guys. Mostly." Stiles said. "Allison's mom was a psycho who tried to kill Scott, but Derek was there to save him, only she got bit in the process."

"So Allison's mom is…"

"Dead." Stiles sighed, "That's why they left."

"Probably from the bite." Derek grumbled, "Poetic justice, you could say."

"So the bite kills?" John frowned, looking over to Derek thoughtfully. "Is that what happened to Erica and Boyd."

Derek opened his mouth to defend himself, only for Stiles to silence him with a hand, "No. _No_ ," he repeated looking back to his father, "No, they're _not_ dead, they're just missing is all. Right?" He insisted, looking from Derek to Isaac. Both werewolves gave a nod, and Stiles exhaled a long breath, "They're missing," he repeated to his father, "We've been looking for them for months, but there's no sign of them. We think the person committing these murders has them."

"The murders?"

Stiles nodded, "Someone, or some _thing_ is killing people. Or more accurately, they're sacrificing them for some reason. I've been trying to figure out the link but…"

"Darach."

Stiles turned, "What?" he frowned, looking at Derek.

"It wasn't me," Derek muttered, looking down at his sister as she spoke again.

"Darach."

Stiles leapt to his feet, hurrying around the table to get to Cora's side. "Darach? Is that what's doing this?"

"Darach." Cora whispered breathlessly again, her body trembling.

Stiles looked to Derek, "Do you know what she's talking about?"

"Not a clue, I've never heard of it."

"I have."

They both turned to find Deaton stood in the doorway, back straight and features stern, "You know what it is?" Derek demanded, getting to his feet.

Deaton sighed, "Do you know what the word Druid means?"

"Wise oak." Stiles replied, standing slowly, "So this guys a druid? That makes sense. Three-fold death, just like the Linwood Man."

"No." Deaton shook his head, moving further into the room, "The Celtic druids were close to nature, they believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers and scholars. They weren't serial killers."

"Yeah, well this one is." Stiles sighed, back straight as he stared down the veterinarian.

Deaton met Stiles hard look with cold disinterest, "Sometimes, if a druid went down the wrong path, the wise oak was sometimes said to have become a dark oak. A…"

"Darach." Stiles finished.

With an incline of his head, Deaton moved over to the couch, freezing as he stared down at the unconscious form of Cora. "Your sister?" he asked, looking up at Derek.

Derek nodded stiffly. "How'd you know?"

"I… - I remember seeing her around town, with your mother." He replied tightly, crouching down and pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. "She has a fever." He opened his bag, pulling out a small jar of dark powder and reached for the glass of water, pouring a little in and string it with a tongue compressor.

"What is that?" Derek demanded.

"Something that will hopefully bring down her temperature and help her begin to heal." Sliding his arm under Cora's neck, he lifted her and pressed the glass to her lips, "There you go, drink. Slowly."

Watching the worry and fear play over Derek's face was too much for Stiles, and he stepped closer, curling his hand around the man's wrist, offering him comfort and strength. But with a twist of Derek's arm, Stiles found his hand encompassed in the sweaty warmth of Derek's palm, and the teenager's heart leapt into his throat, and he instinctively tightened his hold and turned to watch Cora drink.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this chapter was a little shorter than usual. I hope it wasn't a letdown though, I can't wait to hear what you all have to say.**


	14. Red

**RED**

"So, you...?" Stiles heard his father's voice stammering around the question.

Stiles looked over the banister to where the two men were stood in the den's entrance. Deaton looked as unflappable as ever, while Stiles dad looked seconds away from a heart attack.

"What's going on?" John pleaded, as if he was more likely to get a sane sensible answer from the Veterinarian.

Deaton pressed his lips into a thin line, his face blank. Stiles knew that look, it was his avoidy look. He was about to give some weird vague answer and then leave without further explanation. Well like hell.

Stiles hurried down the last few steps, "Yeah, what's going on?" He snapped, rounding the banister at the bottom and marching determinedly over to the man. "And don't give me your cryptic Yoda crap," he snapped, " There's someone out there killing people, Cora's not dead and is currently puking up mistletoe of all things, and rambling on about some kind of druid or whatever, and I'm... _We're_ sick of you keeping secrets. You know something, so talk! " When he was done, Stiles drew in a deep breath and glared at the older man. He could feel his father's eyes on him, but Stiles wouldn't allow himself to be distracted.

Deaton stared at him, eyes narrowed for a long moment, searching, before he straightened. With a resigned nod, he moved over to the couch and sat on the edge. Stiles shot his dad a bemused look, but didn't see the same bewilderment reflected back at him. But then why would he, as far as his dad knew Deaton was your friendly neighbourhood veterinarian who'd helped him out with the 'coyote' problem a year ago.

He had no idea that getting solid information from Deaton was like giving a tortoise a shot. Stiles' nose wrinkled as that idea played out in his mind. He was not sticking a finger up Deaton's ass. His fingers were reserved for his own ass. – And a certain tormented werewolf.

"So?" Deaton asked, clearing his throat.

Stiles shook his head to clear the mental image of his fingers in Derek's ass and stepped forward, positioning himself on the other side of the coffee table and folding his arms once again. "So…" He breathed out warily, " Spill. " he ordered.

Deaton raised a brow, unimpressed.

Stiles gritted his teeth to stop from sighing and fixed his eyes more determinedly, holding back the overwhelming desire to roll them, "Do you know who is doing this?" He snapped tiredly.

"No." Was Deaton's simple answer.

Stiles clenched his fists, concealed by the fold of his arms. Typical Deaton, never giving more information than he wants to. "Do you know... _why_?"

Deaton's lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke, "Specifically? No." Stiles opened his mouth to ask another question the man likely wouldn't answer, but was cut off when Deaton continued, "I suspect it's a ritual however."

Stiles exhaled, "I figured that out for myself." _No thanks to you_ , hung loud but unsaid in the air. "But what kind of ritual? What's it for?"

"I don't know." Deaton shrugged nonchalantly.

"I don't believe you." Stiles told him sharply, unfolding his arms and taking a single step forward. "You always know; you just don't tell us? Why? What are you hiding?"

"His past."

Stiles turned at the sound of a familiar voice. His eyes widened with surprise as they fixed on Peter, "What?"

Peter stepped further into the den, eyes never leaving Deaton. "Go ahead, tell them." Peter sneered, " Tell them what you are. Tell them how you got my sister killed. "

Deaton shot to his feet, "I had nothing to do with Talia's death!" He responded angrily, "I wasn't even in town!"

Peter scoffed, "Conveniently. Why was that again? Oh, yes, the gathering." Peter hummed, nodding. "You place was here! " he growled, eyes flashing red, "Your duty was to protect the pack, not fuck off to the middle of nowhere to sit around a camp fire and sing Kumbya!"

stiles sensed the furious shift in Peter's body language, the way his feet moved and his fingers curled. Without even thinking about it, he moved quickly, shoving Deaton onto the couch and taking the full force of Peter's moving form.

"Stiles!"

He heard the horrified sound of his father's voice seconds before he and Peter crashed into the coffee table. Peter reared back to glare furiously at Stiles, eyes flashing blue. There was a brief moment of recognition before Peter's head snapped around to fix Deaton with a murderous stare and shoved himself forward.

There was barely a second before Stiles flinched away from the resounding bang of a gun being fired. Three bullets imbedded themselves in Peter's back, but the werewolf didn't even look over his shoulder at the Sheriff. Instead Peter's claws sank deep into Deaton's thigh and tore at the flesh as Peter tried to pull the man closer, a strangled yell of pain echoing around the room.

 _Shit_. Stiles thought. If Peter killed Deaton they'd never get any answers. Scrambling to his feet, Stiles threw himself at the ex-Alpha, wrapping his arm around the man's throat and pulling hard. "That couch is only a month old!" he yelled into the man's ear, "I told Derek to Scotchgarded it, dammit!" he pulled harder at the man's throat.

Peter reared back with an angry growl, his claws raising to scratch at Stiles arm.

Gritting his teeth, Stiles endured the pain and kept his arm firmly in place. "Peter! Stop!" he orders loudly in the ex-Alpha's ear. "No more killing, remember!"

Peter roared brokenly, the pressure on his throat slowly taking affect, but not quickly enough. Before the teenager realised what was happening, Peter threw himself backwards, crushing Stiles beneath him, and knocking the air out his lungs. Peter took the momentary disorientation to yank himself free of Stiles grip. Twisting around, he curled his fingers around the teenager's throat, lifting a breathless the boy off his feet. The tips of the man's claws piercing into the sensitive flesh. The man's eyes were burning bright blue and his features had morphed.

Once upon a time, the sight would have filled Stiles with anxiety and maybe the smallest trickle of fear. Now, the only think he felt was his warm blood roll down his throat, and quite frankly it was too hot for this shit. With his teeth clenched, Stiles took a slow calming breath through his nose and drew his leg up, kicking the werewolf's stomach with all his strength. Peter doubled over with a grunt, but didn't release Stiles. Because of course he wouldn't just let him go. Peter was a cold blooded killer, right? He didn't just stop fighting when someone told him to stop. He kept going, ripping people to pieces. Stiles had seen the evidence with his own two eyes. He still had nightmares about it. All of which meant, Stiles was going to have to kick Peter's ass. Which was fine, really. He'd been wanting to beat Peter Hale to a bloody pulp since the night of the school dance.

As the memory of an unconscious Lydia filled his memory, he grabbed Peter's wrist with is right hand and squeezed hard before twisting it violently, feeling the bone grind and snap. The werewolf roared with pain and lifted his other hand to take a swipe at Stiles, but Stiles was faster, slamming his right hand into Peter's elbow, wincing inwardly as the sound of the break, as it bent in the wrong direction.

Finally, Peter released Stiles and staggered back, his now free hand cradling his arm, panting. That should have been the end, but the feeling of power and adrenalin pulsing through his body had him reaching out for Peter's shirt and yanking him back in, his right fist ploughing into the werewolf's nose. Even as blood began to flow, Stiles delivered another punch, and another.

He propelled Peter until the werewolf's back hit the wall. Stiles could feel he was the only thing holding Peter upright but didn't stop, slamming his fist over and over into the werewolf's face. "That's for Lydia!" he yelled, the red haze of anger, frustration and simple primal instinct, clouding his mind. "And Scott! And my Dad! And everyone you killed, you evil, psychotic son of a bitch!" he yelled furiously, over the sound of white noise in his ears. "For Laura, and Derek! For taking Laura _away_ from Derek! Your own fucking niece, you sick bastard!"

He could feel the blood pumping in his veins, his heart racing. Could feel the smell the coppery scent in the air.

And then there was silence. Silence and darkness.

_(*-*)_/

Derek knelt beside the bed like a praying child, and perhaps that's what he was. Praying his sister would be alright. Praying that she'd live. Praying that she wasn't responsible for the deaths in town.

He still couldn't believe she was here. Alive. _For now, at least_ , his traitorous mind whispered. Sounding hauntingly like Kate. He shook it off and forced all his attention on her face, his eyes scanning it, taking in all the changes that have come with the years of separation. He'd missed so much time with her.

A thousand questions were rolling around in his head, questions he needed the answers to. However, Cora was the only person that could give them to him.

 _And_ _she's dying. Just like everyone you've ever loved_. Kate's bitter vicious voice whispered, _Because you're cursed Derek. Monsters like you don't deserve love the way normal people do. You destroy everything you love_.

Derek shook his head and buried his face in his hands, his tears dampening the palms. He knew it was lies. A mixture of Kate's vile manipulation and his own guilt, but it was hard to ignore it completely. Underneath it, he knew there was truth. He did destroy those he loved. He broke them, burnt them, left them to be swallowed by the darkness.

He reached out a trembling hand, brushing it down Cora's cheek, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." He swallowed thickly against the lump in his throat, "I... I should have known better," he whispered, pressing his hand to her forehead, "I should have known what she'd do, and there's nothing I can do to change it. I wish I could. I'd trade my life for theirs in a second. I don't deserve my life, sweetheart. I don't deserve to be..." He shook his head, lowering it to the mattress as a broken sob ripped through his chest, causing him to let out a pained noise.

The roar that tore through the heavy silence had Derek's head snapping up, eyes wide. He hurriedly scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door, pausing to look back at Cora, torn. Then he caught the thick scent of blood in the air, heard another roar, muffled and wet. He heard Stiles voice, angry and loud, yelling.

 _"For Lydia!"_

With a final, guilty look back at his sister, Derek sprinted out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The sight that met him as he reached half way made his stomach drop and he froze in shock.

"For Laura, and Derek! For taking Laura _away_ from Derek! Your own fucking niece, you sick bastard!"

Derek's chest tightened at his own name, spat out so furiously by the teenager as he delivered yet another blow to the older werewolf's face.

Peter's face was unrecognizable, covered as it was in blood. If it weren't for the scent rolling off him in thick waves he'd have never known it was his uncle, and it was getting worse by the second as Stiles continued to lay into him. Punch after punch. The air dense with anger and that unique strange scent that Stiles gave off when he was building up to a seizure.

As if the mere thought was a summons, Stiles body crumpled to the ground and began to jolt violently against the hard wood. Derek leapt the rest of the way, rushing to Stiles side milliseconds after the Sheriff.

Out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw Peter's body lying covered in blood on the floor, but he didn't turn to check on him. Instead scrambled to his feet and rushed to the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator door and grabbing the large bottle of milk. He didn't bother shutting it behind him, he simply sprinted back to the hall and Stiles side. The Sheriff was shoving his jacket beneath Stiles head.

"It's okay son, I'm here. You're okay. You're safe."

Derek dropped down across from the Sheriff and shoved the bottle of milk at him. The man looked up, meeting his eyes gratefully and then put it to one side.

"The seizure is too bad," John Stilinski said in answer to Derek's unspoken question. "When he's stopped, then I'll get him to drink."

"What the fuck!" Jackson's voice yelled behind him, but Derek didn't look, too focused on Stiles.

"Peter?" Lydia gasped, and Derek found his head snapping around to observe the horrified fearful look on the young woman's face. He watched as Lydia dropped down next to his uncle and tentatively reached out to stroke her fingers through his hair.

Derek's gaze flickered up to where Jackson was watching, eyes narrow with anger and hurt. Derek's heart beat a little fast as he waited nervously to see what the young beta was going to do. He could smell Isaac behind him, coming in from the kitchen, his scent thick with too many emotions.

A strangled breath pulled Derek's attention back to Stiles though, the others forgotten, He felt his heart suddenly stop as the teenager's body went eerily still. He reached out with a shaky hand and pressed it to Stiles' chest, exhaling a long relieved breath when he felt the boy's heart beating beneath his hand, slowly returning to a steady pace.

Derek's head fell forward and he sucked in a deep breath, as if he hadn't taken one in hours and closed his eyes, thanking whomever was up there watching over Stiles.

After a few seconds that felt like hours, Derek opened his eyes and looked up to see the Sheriff staring at him, brows pinched and eyes searching. Swallowing his racing heart, Derek straightened and snatched back his hand reluctantly. "We should... get him upstairs, let him sleep it off."

The Sheriff was silent for a long moment before nodding and moving to scoop his son up, only for Derek to press a hand to his shoulder.

"I... I can carry him." Derek offered.

With a cautious nod of his head, the Sheriff pulled his arms away and got to his feet. Derek slipped his arm beneath Stiles now motionless body and gracefully got to his feet. Turning he shot a look down at Lydia, who was still crouched beside Peter, blood covering her hand as it continued to card through Peter's matted hair, a wet choked groan coming from the man's throat. Behind her stood a silent Jackson, his eyes glistening in the burnt orange of the setting sun.

"Isaac!" Derek said, glancing over to where the teenager was hovering, a sickening nervous look on his face. "Isaac, help Lydia get Peter into Boyd's room," he ordered firmly, "so he can heal." Shooting another look over his shoulder, Derek's eyes drifted to the couch for the first time, noting how Deaton was sat bandaging his own leg, "Jackson, help Deaton."

Jackson tore his eyes from Lydia, "What?"

Derek nodded towards the veterinarian, then took the first step, ignoring any argument the beta made.

He didn't even think twice about taking Stiles to his room. Stepping over the threshold, Stiles in his arms, sent a shiver down his spine and his heart skipped a beat.

"Whose room is this?" The Sheriff asked from behind him.

"Mine." Derek answered matter-of-factly. "It's the only room available." he defended while lowering Stiles down onto the mattress. When he straightened, Derek stared down at the sleeping teenager and curled his fingers to stop from reaching out and brushing at his cheek.

Movement behind him brought him out of the moment and reminded him he wasn't alone. Stepping back, he allowed the Sheriff access to his son, and moved to the end of the bed.

The older man set the milk he'd brought up with him on the nightstand and let out a tires sigh as he stared down at Stiles. "So…" The Sheriff began guardedly, "I guess he... told you?" He looked over at Derek, brow raised expectantly.

Rolling his shoulders, Derek met the man's gaze unflinchingly, "Yes."

"I see." The Sheriff whispered, looking back at his son, "Everything?"

"Yes." There was an edge to Derek's tone that the older man clearly picked up on, because he looked at him again with a mixture of sadness, confusion… and fear.

"I'll leave you with him," Derek announced before the man could say anything more, "I need to check on Peter and my sister." He turned, marching to the door.

"Derek." The Sheriff called, stopping the werewolf before he vanished.

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you."

Derek stared at him for a second before inclining his head and leaving, pulling the door closed behind him.

Once outside, he took a moment, inhaling deeply and leaning back against the wall. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of Stiles steady heartbeat, allowing it to ground him once more. As he stood there, Stiles words replayed in his head, along with the vision of the teenager's violent attack.

 _"...and Derek!"_

 _"For taking Laura away from Derek!"_

Derek drew in a shaky breath, and choked down his rapidly beating heart. That Stiles would deliver such a brutal attack to Peter on his behalf, on Laura's behalf, left a strange warmth in his heart. It had been so long since anyone but family had fought _for_ him. Fought to defend him. Since anyone had _cared_.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles head felt like his brain had been removed and replaced by a bowling ball... and a steel band. There was a sour taste in his mouth, a mixture of copper and... ew, milk. _Shit_. The pieces slotted into place and he let out a frustrated groan. He'd been doing so well with taking his pills, how could this happen?

As the ringing stopped and the fog began to clear, Stiles became aware of a commotion, hushed angry voices muffled by distance. He held his breath and tried to listen.

 _"I tried to stop her!"_

That was Jackson and he sounded desperate and angry.

 _"She can't be stopped,"_ replied a weak voice. It was so low he almost couldn't make out the words, let alone who was saying them.

 _"Stay out of this."_ Jackson said in warning. _"You've messed with her head enough already. Stiles should have killed you."_

Stiles stomach dropped at the announcement, his mind reeling as the memories came flooding back. Peter.

The gun shots.

The anger.

The blood.

Stiles eyes snapped open and he lifted his hands to his face, staring at the blood staining his knuckles. "Shit."

"Stiles?"

"Dad? " He turned to find his father sat uncomfortably beside his bed. No, wait, not his bed. He blinked and looked around, frowning. "Where am I?"

"Derek's house." His father replied, "How are you feeling?"

"Usual. Like I've been run over by a truck." He continued to take in his surroundings. He had to be in Derek's room. It had been the only room in the house he hadn't helped decorate.

He looked at the space in the bed beside him, empty and untouched. Stiles couldn't keep his hand from reaching out and stroking the white sheets.

A loud band had him yanking his hand back as if burnt, heart pounding as he expected to see Derek. But when his head snapped around the bedroom door was still closed.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his dad get to his feet and then watched as the man yanked the door open, his back straight and ready to face any situation. However, whatever was happening outside the room, and judging by the sounds it was a fight, it had his dad taking a hurried step back into the room.

That wasn't good. Stiles flung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Where are you going? Stiles?"

He ignored his father's worried question and headed for the door, reaching past his father for the handle. He could hear Derek's angry growl and yelling.

"Stiles, stay..."

Pulling open the door, forcing his dad to move out of its way, Stiles rushed out onto the landing. It was empty, the loud voices drifted up from the front of the house though, and despite the heaviness in his limps, Stiles hurried down and out into the dark.

He found Derek fighting to keep Jackson and Peter from killing one another. The pair clearly struggling to control their anger under the pull of the full moon. Peter's face was still battered and bruise but most of the damage had healed, and Stiles felt a mix of emotions at the sight of what he'd done to the ex-Alpha.

An almost deafening roar pierced the night sky as Derek took an angry swipe at Jackson, knocking him hard into a tree a few feet away, before the Alpha turned furious red eyes on his uncle.

"Enough!" Derek growled, body bent ready to attack once more, "Lydia is out there alone! We don't have time for this!"

"Lydia?" Stiles gasped, causing both werewolves to turn and regard him.

Derek straightened, his features melting back to their human form, though his claws remained extended at his sides. "Stiles?"

Peter's eyes flashed a defensive blue, his back straight. Stiles worried the ex-Alpha was going to attack him in an act of vengeance, but to his surprise, Peter's eyes returned to normal and his shoulder's relaxed, and most surprising of all, he seemed to incline his head, just a few inches. The gesture caused Stiles to frown, but he was too worried about Lydia to give it any more thought.

"Where's Lydia?" Stiles demanded.

"She wandered off ten minutes ago." Derek informed him, moving closer, "She was meant to be getting a glass of water but then we heard the front door."

Stiles looked up at the sky, "What time is it?"

"12:10." His dad said behind him, at the same moment Peter and Jackson replied.

"Shit." Stiles dropped his gaze to Derek, who mirrored his concerned yet resigned look back at him.

"I know."

"Alright, what's going on?" His dad asked, "Stiles?"

Dragging his hand through his hair, Stiles sighed. "There's been another murder." He replied flatly, meeting his father's confused gaze, "And Lydia's gone to find the body."

John stared at his son, "What?"

"And thanks to this jerk-off," Jackson spat furiously, "we have no idea where she is."

"Yes we do." Stiles contradicted, "She's at the museum."

"What?" His dad gaped, "How do you…?"

"Because it's part of the pattern." Stiles sighed despairingly, "Dad, you better get there, but don't call it in until Lydia's left." He ordered, when his father opened his mouth to argue Stiles added, "If you call it in, it'll be official and you'll have to explain why Lydia was there. We…" he looked over at Derek and the others, "We can't have the attention."

"Stiles…"

"Dad," Stiles stopped him with a raised hand, "we'll talk about everything later, first you have another murder to deal with. Okay?"

John didn't look the least bit happy, but finally he nodded, "I've got to grab my keys." He turned back into the house.

"I'll go with him," Peter and Jackson said at the same time, turning to glare daggers at each other.

"Like hell!" Jackson yelled, blue eyes flashing.

Derek rolled his eyes, jaw painfully tight and Stiles gave him a soft sympathetic smile. "Neither of you are going. I'll…"

"I'll go with the Sheriff," Isaac suddenly announced from behind Stiles, causing everyone to turn and look at him.

Derek frowned, "Are you…sure?" he asked, and Stiles frowned, looking between them.

Isaac's gaze flickered briefly over to Jackson, and when Stiles followed his gaze he caught a strange deer-in-the-headlights look on the beta's face. "Yeah," Isaac nodded, hurriedly taking the steps.

"Take my car." Derek said, rushing up the front steps to grab his keys from the table in the hall. Stepping up to Stiles side, he tossed them to the waiting teenager.

As Isaac marched towards the Camaro, Jackson glared a warning at him, but Isaac ignored it. Reaching the car, he turned to lean back against the door and folded his arms over his chest, lifting his head to stare up at the sky. Jackson let out a low growl and a huff of frustration.

Stiles turned a questioning look on Derek, "Later." The Alpha whispered back, "Are you okay?" he added quietly.

"Bit of a headache and…" he glanced down, lifting his hands and noticing the blood spattering his clothes, "I could use a shower."

Derek smiled, "I think I have a shirt that'll fit."

With a flutter of his heart, Stiles breath caught at the warmth in Derek's gaze, "Uh, thanks."

Heavy footsteps resounded behind him and seconds later his father reappeared. Stiles turned to meet him, "Isaac's going to follow you."

"I can't take him to a crime scene." John argued.

Stiles rolled his eyes, "He's there to collect Lydia and bring her home."

John stared at his son, before glancing at Derek. "Okay. – Will you give him a ride home?" he asked the Alpha.

Derek nodded, "Of course, Sir."

"I'm not going home."

Both his father and Derek turned to stare at him, "What?" John snapped.

"We need to figure out what's going on, and all my research is here." Stiles insisted firmly.

John looked like he wanted to argue, but then he exhaled a long breath and turned away from the pair without another word.

Stiles watched his father climb into the cruiser, Isaac already seated in the Camaro. "Is Deaton still here?" he asked as he watched both cars back away from the house.

"He's with Cora. Melissa's with him"

Stiles' head snapped around, brow raised, "What?"

"She arrived a few minutes after…" Derek trailed off, looking over to Peter.

"Sorry about that?" Stiles whispered, "Not for kicking his ass," he quickly clarified, shooting the ex-Alpha a look as Peter took a step towards the house, "He totally deserved it…" Peter narrowed his eyes at the teenager, but his lip curled at the corner and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"You don't need to apologise," Derek insisted, drawing Stiles attention back to him.

Their eyes met and Stiles felt his heart do a double flip, his stomach fluttering. "I… - I'd like that shower." He whispered, voice rough.

Derek nodded, "Sure."

_(*-*)_/

Stiles followed him up the stairs and along to his room. With each step, Derek tried harder and harder to calm his wayward heartbeat, but it was near on impossible. When they reached the bedroom, Derek headed straight for his dresser, yanking open the second drawer and rummaging through the few shirts. He should probably go shopping at some point. Stiles had already subtly brought up the lack of variety in his wardrobe.

He tugged out the black shirt he'd borrowed from Stiles almost a year ago. He had no idea why he hadn't given it back sooner, nor why Stiles hadn't demanded its return. Setting it on top of the dresser, Derek closed the drawer and opened the next, tugging out a pair of black jeans. He and Stiles were the same height, give or take an inch, so they should fit.

With the jeans in hand, Derek shut the dresser with his hip and snatched up the t-shirt before turning.

Stiles was stood by the window, staring out at the night sky, the curtains subtly moving beside him as a much needed breeze began to drift through.

Dropping the clothes on the bed, Derek strolled over to join him, "Rains coming." He said, breaking the silence.

Stiles sighed, "Thank god, I don't think I could take this heat much longer."

"Yeah." Derek agreed, folding his arms and staring out at the darkened forest.

"How's Cora?" Stiles asked quietly.

Derek lowered his head, shaking it slightly, "Deaton says it's not just the mistletoe that's making her sick. He says the…. Darach put some kind of spell or curse on her."

"Shit." Stiles gasped, turning his whole body to face Derek, his hand shooting out to grip his bicep, "I'm sorry."

Derek shook his head, "Deaton says there's a chance whatever it is, its tied to the Darach itself. Which means we need to find it and kill it."

Stiles gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, "And we will." He stated firmly.

Looking down at him, Derek raised his brow, "I don't think your father will be on board."

"Leave my dad to me. Once I explain the situation, he'll… well, he won't be okay with it, but… he'll understand. – How bigger problem is finding the thing." Stiles sighed, dropping his hand and sighing. He turned, perching his ass on the window seal and stared at the bed. "On the bright side, if Cora's here, we know she didn't kill anyone tonight."

Derek looked at him, then back out at the dark. "Yeah."

The room fell silent again, and out of the corner of his eye, Derek watched Stiles fish his phone out of his pocket and begin to tap away at it. He was probably checking in with his dad, or Lydia. A small spark of jealousy ignited in Derek at the thought of Stiles texting Lydia, even though it was only natural for him to do so. They were friends.

Scolding himself inwardly, he took one final glance at the full moon, and then turned to leave, "I'll be down stairs, making sure Jackson and Peter don't kill each other." – And before the pair start speculating just what he and Stiles are doing.

Before he could step away, Stiles grabbed his arm once more. When Derek turned to see what he wanted, Stiles was holding up his phone, a line of text filling the screen. **What's going on between Jackson and Isaac?**

Derek smiled and joined Stiles on the ledge, holding his hand out for the cell. He'd left his own in his jacket pocket, which was currently draped over a chair in Erica's room. Stiles handed the cell over and Derek typed out a reply. **I think something happened between them while we were at the museum last night.**

Stiles frowned as he read, his thumbs soon moving over the screen. **They had another fight?**

Derek smirked, shaking his head, **Isaac had a hickey this morning.**

When Stiles eyes widened in surprise, Derek couldn't help but laugh. Stiles mouth made a huge O before he turned the phone back to Derek. **OH MY GOD! REALLY! WHAT ABOUT LYDIA?**

Derek shrugged, **I think something is going on between her and Peter.**

 **No way.** Stiles shook his head.

 **You didn't see her reaction to finding Peter unconscious and bloody. There's definitely more going on there than her wanting answers about what she is.**

Stiles stared down at the phone, his mouth a thin line. Derek reached over, wrapping his hand around Stiles so as to take the phone, only for the teenager to turn his palm up and grip Derek's hand, his head falling to the Alpha's shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Derek said aloud, "I know you…"

Stiles twisted his head, meeting Derek's eyes without lifting it from its cushion. "It's fine." He insisted, "Whatever feelings I had for her are… Well, they're not gone but…they're not the same."

Derek's tongue swept across his lips and he took a deep breath, swallowing hard. "I…"

"Yeah?" Stiles pressed, his finger's tightening around Derek's.

"I'm glad." Derek replied quietly, his eyes flickering between Stiles soft brown eyes.

"Yeah?"

Derek nodded.

"Why?" Stiles asked breathlessly.

There was a long few moments before Derek answered, "I… I think you know why." He whispered, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Stiles exhaled a soft breath that played over Derek's lips, "Are you…sure?" he asked nervously.

Derek didn't answer, instead closing the gap between them and taking Stiles mouth in a slow kiss.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, there you are. It finally happened, they kissed. I hope you enjoyed it, sorry it was such a long wait. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, but if you choose not to leave feedback, I'd like to thank you for reading and sending me kudos. See you again soon.**


	15. Medium is the Message

**Medium is the Message**

The cell slipped from his hand to land with a dull thud on the carpet, his whole body frozen in surprise. Derek was kissing him? _Oh my god Derek Hale's mouth is on mine. What do I do?_ He thought frantically, mind a confused mess. As much as he'd fantasized about kissing Derek, that it was happening felt like a dream. He was going to wake up any second, right? Because there was no way Derek was finally kissing him.

Then the lips were gone. _Where have they gone?_ Stiles moved his lips around, leaning a little forward in search of them but all he found was air. Cracking open an eye, he saw Derek looking at his lap with that frustrating guilty look on his face.

"I..." Derek started breathlessly, his body shifting in preparation to rise, "I shouldn't ha..."

"Fuck no! " Stiles spat, his hand shooting out to grab the front of Derek's Henley and yanking back in, crushing their mouths together once more.

This time Stiles was completely in the moment, his lips brushing teasingly against Derek's. He pulled the man's lower lip into his mouth and sucked. It drew a rumbling groan from Derek, and the man's large hand instantly came up to frame his face.

While Derek's fingers moved to card through the short hairs at the back of Stiles head, Stiles own hand slowly stroked its way from where it hand been gripping Derek's shirt, down to the hem. Blindly, Stiles fidgeted until his hand slid beneath and he felt the clammy heat of Derek's back.

They both moaned at the same moment, and pressed their bodies closer. It wasn't a particularly comfortable position, perched as they were on the thin ledge of the window frame.

 _Window seat._ Stiles thought distractedly, _We've got to get a window seat_. The mental image of the pair if them entangled in front of the window, the full moon bathing their naked flesh, had Stiles moaning loudly and he tried to move closer, but there was nowhere left for him to go.

 _Derek's lap,_ his mind provided, but in their current position there was no way he'd fit, but like hell if he wasn't going to try, so Stiles scrambled closer, throwing his leg over Derek's thigh. The Alpha's hand instantly dropped from Stiles hair to his ass, holding him in place and deepened the kiss further. Stiles smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms securely around Derek's neck, fingers clenching tightly at the back of the Alpha's shirt.

Stiles had no idea how long they were there; minutes, hours, days? It may even be years. Time stopped and the world fell away. It was just the two of them.

Then it ended.

The pairs attention snapped to the door and the sound of a throat being cleared, to find Deaton stood with his eyes averted. "Sorry to interrupt." the man said flatly, "Derek, your sister is asking to see you."

Stiles instantly climbed off Derek's lap and stepped away as Derek hurriedly stepped past him. He paused a few feet away, looking back, "Go." Stiles whispered breathlessly, waving his hand at the door. He watched as Derek followed Deaton out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Alone, Stiles staggered to the bed and dropped down onto the edge, his chest heaving. _Oh my god._ He thought again, his tongue sweeping across his lips, capturing the last of Derek's taste. "Okay, so that happened." he muttered, a smile stretching across his face.

He sat there for a while, his head replaying the kiss, until his imagination took over where they'd left off and his dick began to twitch. Getting to his feet, Stiles began to strip out of his clothes and strolled to the small bathroom.

_(*-*)_/

Derek stepped into the room with an extra spring in his step, and hurried over to his sister's side, "Cora?" he whispered, lowering himself down next to her and pushing all thoughts of Stiles and their kiss to the back of his mind. He combed his fingers through her damp hair, and her eyes slowly drifted open. The blue of her irises framed with streaks of red. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes and her forehead was peppered with sweat.

Seeing his sweet baby sister's eyes flash blue sent a sickening chill through him, and he tried to tell himself there was an explanation. Yes, she'd taken a life, but… but it didn't mean…

"Del?" she wheezed weakly, "Del?"

"It's me, sweetheart." He said softly, leaning closer. When Cora shook her head disbelievingly Derek took her trembling hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, "It's really me, Goofy."

Cora wrinkled her nose at the nickname, her eyes fluttering open in a failed attempt to glare at him, and Derek couldn't help but laugh, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"You're okay, sweetheart. You're home." He reassured her, swallowing the large lump in his throat, more tears escaping his eyes.

"I – I'm sorry, Del." She choked out, sniffling, "I – I'm so sorry."

Derek leant down to press his lips to her clammy forehead, "Hush, it's alright, Cora."

Shaking her head, she squeezed his fingers, "S-she said you were…. dead. She said you were _all_ … dead."

"Who did?" He whispered, his free hand stroking her hair.

"Julia."

Derek frowned, not recognizing the name. "Who's Julia?"

"E-Emissary." Cora replied in a whisper, her eyes drifting closed. "Ennis." She added so quietly, only Derek caught it.

Sitting back, Derek watched as Cora drifted back to unconsciousness, then leant forward to press another kiss to her forehead, "You're safe, now." He promised quietly, "I won't let anything happen to you. I won't lose you too."

Inhaling deeply, Derek savoured Cora's scent once more filling his nose, before finally straightening and meeting Deaton's gaze, "Ennis?"

Deaton frowned for a moment before his features paled and he inhaled, looking between Derek and an unconscious Cora. "I think we should talk," he glanced over to Melissa, who'd been hovering across the room, pretending not to watch the scene. "You'll be okay with her?" he asked, and something about the way he'd said it, the reassurance in his voice, caused Derek's heckles to rise. Before he could say anything however, Deaton was heading for the door. With a final lingering look at his sleeping sister's pale face, and another gentle press of his lips to her forehead, Derek got to his feet and marched after the man.

Deaton was stood patiently hovering in the corridor, "Dryden Ennis," he said the moment Derek closed the door behind him, "is an Alpha who was murdered six years ago, along with his whole pack."

Derek took a sharp breath and shook his head, "It couldn't have been Cora, she was…"

Deaton held up a hand, "Of course not." He agreed. Deaton took a deep breath and sighed, he glanced down the corridor to Derek's room, "You may wish to get Stiles, I'd rather not repeat myself and he'll undoubtedly have questions."

With a nod, Derek hurried back to his room, bursting in without bothering to knock. The room was empty but he could hear the shower running. Strolling over to the door, he pushed it open and stuck his head inside, opening his mouth to speak only for the words to die on his tongue as the overpowering scent of arousal and sex slammed into him. The scent ignited his primal heat, but then the water suddenly stopped and the shower door opened. The air left Derek's lungs as he stared at a naked and very wet Stiles, who stared back at him. "Uh…" he stammered, heart thumping hard beneath his ribs. "I…"

Stiles smiled at him, "Don't look so horrified, dude." He laughed, moving closer, "It's not like you ain't seen me naked before." He smirked teasingly, reaching for the towel.

Derek exhaled a huff, "That was different." He argued back defensively.

Wrapping the towel around his hips, Stiles grinned and step up to the Alpha, "Yeah?"

"Yes." Derek choked out, his gaze scanning over the teenager's body, allowing himself to fully appreciate the tone muscles and dark hair. – Not to mention…

Stiles nodded, "I guess it was," he whispered seductively, "I was unconscious."

Derek stiffened at the reminder, his eyes snapping up to meet Stiles. Hurriedly he stepped away, backing out of the bathroom. Behind him Stiles exhaled a groan.

"Come on, man. Derek?" Stiles rushed out after him, "I was teasing, please don't start freaking out again." He begged. "Everything was going so good."

Derek kept his back to him as he replied, "We… _I_ got carried away. I shouldn't…"

Stiles yanked angrily on his arm, "No!" he snapped, glaring at Derek furiously, "I'm done with your wallowing self-loathing, Derek. You like me, I know you do, and I like you, so can we please just… _stop_." He sighed desperately. "Please Derek."

Derek looked at him sadly, "I'm just trying to protect you, Stiles. I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not Kate, Derek." Stiles insisted firmly, "And no offense but I'm not you."

"Aren't you?" Derek asked, eyes searching the teenager's face, "Kate…" he swallowed around the name, "…she was able to manipulate me because I was in a bad place."

"I'm _not_ in a bad place." Stiles argued loudly.

"Oh no?" Derek said harshly, "You're having problems with your dad, you haven't spoken to Scott in over six months, the girl you were in love with went back to her ex and may well have moved on to..."

"You're not some kind of fucking consolation prize or whatever it is you're thinking!" Stiles yelled, "I'm not here because I'm trying to fill some fucking… _hole_!"

"I'm not saying you are, I'm saying…" Derek let out a deep growl, "I don't know what I'm saying," he shook his head, dragging his hand through his hair. "I've got more baggage than I know how to deal with," he stated after a long frustrated silence.

"My life isn't exactly uncomplicated." Stiles reminded angrily.

"I'm 24, Stiles. Twenty- _four_ , and you're 16! _This_ ," Derek waved between them, "is illegal." He said desperately, "As far as anyone…. As far as your _father_ is concerned, I may as well be Kate."

Stiles stared at him, eyes wide and brimming with angry tears, "So that's it?"

Derek nodded slowly, "I…"

"No, you know what, Derek, fuck you!" he fumed.

Derek watched him move angrily around the room, his lips a stubborn thin line, but Derek could see the tremor in his chin, smell the suffocating scent of misery, heartbreak and tears waiting to fall, and it ripped though his heart.

Why can't Stiles see he's trying to do the right thing? As much as he wants Stiles, wants a future with him, now is not the time.

It's not that Derek is scared of the punishment; he'd committed worse sins than loving a boy much younger than him. He just couldn't risk destroying Stiles the way he had Paige.

 _Except_ Stiles wasn't Paige, was he? Stiles knew what Derek was and knew the dangers that lurked out in the darkness. Stiles ran with wolves and had the strength to protect himself.

Stiles wasn't a normal teenager, despite appearances. He'd seen loss and rejection, he'd spent his life carrying a secret just as great and destructive as Derek's own. He'd suffered at the hands of an Argent and carried the scars to prove it.

He'd seen the world as it really was, not just the light and dark, black and white, but layers of grey. Lines blurred and the rules were not always so easily followed. Situations and people differed, and neither he nor Stiles were completely human, were they?

They lived in that grey world.

Derek's heart beat frantically in his throat, a loud buzzing in his ears making him dizzy. Suddenly he had a haunting vision of his future. If he continued down his current path and let Stiles disappear into that bathroom. He felt it in his very soul. If he let Stiles go now, he'd _never_ get him back.

The friendship would remain, but it would be broken, scared, never to fully heal, and eventually they would drift back to that cold distance of a year ago. Derek's heart shattered at the realization. That wasn't how they were meant to be, he knew that. He _felt_ it.

 _You're not Kate!_ Stiles words resounded in his ear, and for the first time he believed them. He wasn't Kate. He wasn't _like_ Kate. She hadn't cared about him. She hadn't loved him. She'd used him for her own twisted games, and felt not a single second of shame, or guilt. That wasn't him. He'd spent months hating himself, fighting his own feelings because he cared about Stiles. Loved Stiles. Everything he did or didn't do was so as not to hurt the teenager who'd brought him out of the dark cavern he'd been hiding away in for years.

And yet, he was hurting him. Right now, in this room, he was tearing the man he loved apart, out of fear.

With a sharp intake of breath, Derek leapt to his feet, mind whirling. Moving swiftly, he crossed the room, snagging Stiles arm in a gentle grip and tugging him to a stop, feeling him go rigid beneath his hold. "I'm sorry." Derek whispered, voice breaking on the words. A tear rolled down his cheek and his hands shook, "I... I panicked." He confessed.

There was a long silence in which Stiles remained still, barely even breathing. The heady scent of tears and heartbreak continuing to roll off him in waves. Exhaling slowly, Derek released his hand but didn't step back, simply standing there, a small gap between them.

Slowly the scent began to fade, replaced with the sharp tang of remorse, anger and... forgiveness. Closing his eyes, Derek filled his lungs with the scent and took a step forward, his hands raising to rest on the younger man's shoulders. He let his forehead drop to the back of Stiles head. "I'm sorry." He whispered once more.

There's silence but for the harsh breaths Stiles is exhaling and Derek doesn't push, he simply stands there with his head to Stiles'.

"It's not that I don't understand," Stiles whispered softly, his voice thick and wet with emotion, "of course I do. I can't even begin to imagine, nor do I want to, what that bitch did to you, or how it messed you up. - But..." he trailed off, falling silent again and Derek inhaled nervously, his fingers unconsciously tightening on Stiles warm pale flesh.

He opened his mouth to say something, but had no idea what to say but... Sorry. - _Again_.

He was saved from saying anything when Stiles turned, twisting free of Derek's hands so that they had to hang limply at the Alpha's side. Stiles looked up at him with red rimmed brown eyes and Derek's heart tightened in his chest.

"Oh my god," Stiles sighed, shaking his head, "You're an idiot, Sourwolf."

The air rushed out of Derek's lungs as an invisible weight was lifted. Grinning, he grabbed Stiles face, cradling it as if it were the holy grail while lowering his mouth to Stiles' once more.

Stiles moaned softly into the kiss, his hands slipping cautiously over Derek's hips, his nails grazing against the fabric of his jeans. The kiss was slow and gentle, only the slightest hint of tongue, and Derek felt himself being tugged closer until their bodies were pressed together.

The kiss didn't last long, Derek drawing back after only a few seconds to whisper, "I'm sorry." while his eyes scanned Stiles features, his thumb stroking slowly across the teenager's jaw.

Stiles nodded with a soft smile, "Me too." He breathed, "I know this ain't gonna be easy for you."

"No, it's not." Derek confessed, regret in his voice. "Every instinct is screaming that this is wrong, but..." With a huff Derek shook his head, "...I'm tired of...not being happy. "

Stiles grinned, wide and bright, "God, man, you're such a sap." He chuckled, then wrapped his fingers in Derek's shirt, pulling him back into another kiss.

They stood there lost in the moment for another few seconds, but a loud knock soon startled them apart.

"Shit," Derek hissed, leaping back, "Give us another minute!" He called through the door. "Deaton has information." He added in reply to Stiles curious look.

Stiles narrowed his gaze, a stern tone to his voice as he said, "So that's why you came back? Not to..."

Derek flinched, his cheeks heating as he stumbled to defend himself, "No, I mean... "

Stiles let out a chuckle, shoving at Derek's chest and stepped away. He crouched to collect the clothes he'd dropped during their kiss. Letting out a low growl, Derek waited for Stiles to straighten before grabbing at the towel, barely clinging to the teenager's hips, and whipped it away. Stiles let out a strangled yelp and spun around to glare at Derek clutching the clothes to cover his junk.

"Asshole!" Stiles spat through a grin, but Derek simple shrugged nonchalantly and wandered over to the bed, towel still in hand.

Stiles seemed to take it as a challenge and rather than returning to the bathroom to dress, strolled over to the bed, tossing the clothes beside Derek.

Lust fueled heat shot through Derek and he quickly averted his gaze away from Stiles naked body as the teenager took his precious time dressing.

"So how's your sister?" Stiles asked conversationally, dragging his underwear up his thighs.

Derek stared down at his hand, fidgeting with the towel, "Unconscious again." He sighed, "Seems someone told her I was dead, Laura too assumingly."

"Oh my god, who would do that? " Stiles gasped. "And why?"

Derek shrugged, "An emissary named Julia." He muttered angrily.

Stiles froze in the process of fastening his jeans and stared at Derek, "Emissary?"

Meeting Stiles gaze, Derek sighed wearily, "I don't know. Only the Alpha line deal with them. My mom and Laura. I remember hearing Mom and Laura talking about the emissary, but as I was just a beta, I was never told more than they're the protectors of the pack. - And to be honest," Derek huffed, " I was more concerned with... _other_ things."

Stiles let the hem of the t-shirt fall, "Then I suggest we go get some answers." He held out his hand to Derek, who took it easily and got to his feet.

_(*-*)_/

The pack was gathered in the living room when they finally made their way down stairs. There was a thick tension in the room that even a human could have picked up on. Isaac sat with his back pressed to the wall beside the fireplace, eyes fixed on a book in front of him, the wire of his ear buds a start white against his dark blue t-shirt. Meanwhile Jackson lounged in the armchair, obviously trying to ignore the fact that Lydia and Peter were sat together on the couch, by staring murderously at the television.

Stiles was surprised Peter was even still there, quite frankly. He'd have thought he would have scurried back to his own house the second he was able to walk again, but then, he'd probably been hanging around waiting for Lydia. Taking in the way the pair sat so closely together, not quite touching but close enough to feel each other's every movement, made Stiles feel a sudden spark of jealousy. Not because he still loved her, he had Derek now, but more out of…habit. His eyes snapped to Jackson and he couldn't imagine how he was just sitting there. However, if what Derek had told him about Isaac was true, did Jackson even care? Maybe they had some kind of…open relationship thing going on. Stiles made a mental note to ask Lydia about that.

Stiles won't deny that there was a streak of satisfaction running through him at the knowledge he'd left Peter a bloody mess. He wondered if he'd feel worse about it if Peter's face was still black and blue, but while there was still a tinge of brownish-yellow around his right eye and along his jaw, the worst of the damage had healed. Though Stiles noted there was a wince of pain on the werewolf's face as he pushed himself off the couch, and as he made his way over, there was a slight limp to his right step.

Peter inclined his head to Derek before thrusting his hand out to Stiles. Staring down at it, slowly and very cautiously Stiles reached out to take it, the man's hand cold against his own heated palm.

"My apologies." Peter said in a low voice, "I should not have...attacked you."

Stiles frowned at him, uncertain how genuine the apology actually was. "Uh," he stammered, looking from Peter to Derek, then briefly over to Lydia, who had shifted forward on the couch and was watching them. "Okay, I... guess." he muttered, eyes turning back to the older man, "But you're paying for the couch."

"And the coffee table." Derek added harshly.

"Of course." Peter grinned easily, his usual charm resurfacing. With a slight squeeze to Stiles hand, Peter withdrew it and grinned.

"And I think you owe..." Stiles began, glancing to his left where Deaton stood silent and detached.

Peter's bright easy smile vanished instantly, his eyes sparkling blue as he turned them on the Veterinarian, "I will apologize for the damage to the house, and to you," Peter seethed, never breaking eye contact with Deaton, "but I'll not to him. What I did was deserved, _and_ he knows it."

"Peter." Derek warned.

"No!" Peter snapped, finally looking to his nephew, "As Emissary he had a duty, not only to your mother and the pack, but to _you_!" he finished with a growl.

Stiles turned sharply to stare at Deaton, mouth hanging slightly open, the man looking at them with indifference, his back straight. "Your...an Emissary?" Stiles gasped, brows knitting in conclusion.

"The Hale Emissary!" Peter spat, taking a threatening step closer to the man, "Duty bound to serve the Alpha and protect the pack."

"I did my duty." Deaton stated flatly.

Peter scoffed disbelievingly, "And yet there dead." he muttered, "Why is that? Could it be because Talia wouldn't give you a second glance? Is that why you betrayed them?"

"I never betrayed the pack!" Deaton replied with a low tone that held contempt and restrained fury.

"Oh no?"

"I was duty bound to attend that gathering, your sister knew that." Deaton defended.

"Yes, convenient that it was the night Kate Argent choose to attack the pack."

Deaton stiffened, "I had nothing to do with that?" his eyes drifted over to Derek briefly, before he looked back to Peter and raised his chin defiantly.

Stiles frowned, his heart skipping. Did Deaton know about Derek's involvement with Kate Argent? Did he blame Derek for the fire as much as Derek blamed himself? Stiles felt Derek stiffen next to him and knew the man was thinking the same thing.

Peter took another threatening step towards Deaton and Stiles hurriedly put himself between them once more, while Derek grabbed at Peter's arm and pulled him back.

"Peter, enough." Derek warned, "We have other..."

"I'd find myself more inclined to believe you," Peter continued, ignoring his nephew's words, "If not for the fact that you abandoned Laura and Derek to find their own way." Shaking off Derek's grip, Peter stepped away, putting some space between them. "And Cora..." He growled.

"I had no idea Cora had survived!" Deaton quickly defended.

Gravitating back to Derek's side, Stiles looked between the two men, intrigued by the sudden turn of events.

"Laura wasn't ready to be Alpha!" Peter muttered, his back to them as he stared out of the window. "She needed guidance, she needed her Emissary, instead you abandoned her and forced her to find sanctuary with strangers. – And when she came home," he shot the man a hard look, "you turned her away."

Derek gasped, inhaling deeply, "What?"

"That's not..." Deaton started before lowering his gaze.

"Perhaps if you'd done your job, she'd..."

Deaton took an angry step forward, "Don't blame me for what _you_ did Peter!"

"Why not? Did you help her at all? Did you help Derek when he came to you? - Have you helped any of them?" he waved his hand at the room. "Where were you when Derek became Alpha?"

"I have helped where I could."

Peter sneered, shaking his head furiously, "You stood by in the shadows and allowed _children_ to stop me! You knew everything but told them nothing. You never stepped forward to help? Derek was forced to find his way in the dark and it almost cost them all their lives." Stepping forward once more, fixing the man with a hard penetrating glare, "Or perhaps you hoped to wipe us all off the face of the earth and start a new pack? One under _your_ control!"

"What?" Stiles muttered, frowning.

Peter moved closer, eyes searching the Veterinarians emotionless features. "Is that your plan for Scott? You think that boy can be Alpha? A bitten werewolf?" his nose wrinkled with disgust. "Is that why you've been whispering in his ear? Turning him against Derek? Convincing him he doesn't need a pack?"

Deaton's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. Stiles' finger's flexed at his side and he stepped forward, "Is this true?" he demanded, voice almost as threatening as Peter's.

Deaton tore his gaze away to meet Stiles, "No."

Peter huffed another disbelieving laugh.

"Then why do you keep stuff from us? You knew...you had to have known about Scott, and Peter, and Derek, and you said nothing. For six months you said _nothing_!" he ended with a yell. Deaton pressed his lips into a thin line, which only made Stiles angrier. "Do you know who's doing these murders? Do you?"

"No."

Stiles shook his head, "I don't know whether to believe you or not."

"Not." Peter growled angrily. "There's no way he doesn't know. They're connected, aren't you?"

"Enough." Derek announced suddenly, stepping up between Stiles and Peter. "Peter, sit down."

"Derek..."

" _Sit_." Derek ordered, though there was a gentleness to his tone. Reluctantly Peter returned to the couch, and the Alpha turned his attention back to the man in front of him. "Jackson, get a chair for our guest."

Stiles frowned up at the Alpha before looking over his shoulder to see Jackson dragging in a chair from the kitchen and setting it up in front of the fireplace.

"Thank you." Derek said over his shoulder, before stepping a little to his right and waving his hand at the chair, "Dr. Deaton." There was a harshness to his tone that made it abundantly clear it was not a request.

Stiles stepped aside to let the man pass and watched with a buzz of anticipation and excitement as Deaton took the seat, looking around them.

"Now, you said you had information on this Julia woman." Derek crouched down in front of the man, meeting his eyes, "And her Alpha."

Stiles perched his ass on the edge of the abandoned armchair and watched as Deaton was flanked by Jackson and Isaac. He couldn't deny there was a thrill to seeing Derek behave like the Alpha he was. It was...well arousing.

Deaton exhaled a long breath, "Ennis and his pack were murdered," he stated finally, "a little over a week after…." He glanced over to Peter, who sat beside Lydia, glaring murderously at his folded hands. "the fire."

"By Argents?" Derek asked, his tone cold and unfeeling.

Deaton shook his head, "No. - By the pack's Emissary, Julia Baccari."

Peter laughed and got to his feet, stomping out of the room. Stiles turned to watch as Lydia hurriedly went after him.

"And?" Derek pressed, ignoring his uncle's exit.

Deaton shook his head, "That's all I know."

"Are you serious? " Stiles snapped.

"I was dealing with the loss of my own..."

Derek growled, warning Deaton not to finish that sentence.

Deaton stiffened, meeting the Alpha's angry red eyes. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I've heard snippets over the years. Other murders, other packs, wiped out. - I can reach out," Deaton insisted, " Find out what I can."

"Oh, so now you want to help?" Jackson scoffed, leaning against the fireplace with his arms folded.

Deaton looked up at him, "If Julia has indeed become a Darach, then she needs to be stopped, for all our sakes."

"And Cora?" Derek demanded.

Deaton met his gaze, "I've done all I can. Her only hope is Julia."

"If you're an Emissary, why can't you fix it?" Stiles snapped.

"It's not that simple. Without knowing what kind of curse she put on her, I have no way of knowing how to counteract it."

Derek remained crouched silently for a few seconds before getting up and walking into the kitchen, nodding for Stiles to join him. They positioned themselves by the kitchen door, looking out into the darkness.

"So, what do you think?" Stiles whispered, staring at the Alpha's profile.

Derek shook his head, "I don't know. - What do your instincts say?"

stiles sighed warily, shooting a look to the living room. "And hour ago, I'd have said he was shady but ultimately trustworthy, but..." He looked back to the darkness, "What Peter said, I'm realizing he may be closer to the truth than I want to admit. - He knew who you were, he knew about Peter and Scott, and he kept silent for months." Stiles shook his head furiously, "And I know he was partly responsible for what happened with Isaac, helping Scott undermine you." Looking up at Derek, Stiles clenched his jaw, "I don't know if we can trust him. Especially if Peter's right about him trying to set Scott up as Alpha."

Derek inclined his head in agreement, "And yet, he may be the only person who can help me save Cora."

He was right, Stiles knew, which meant they had to risk trusting Deaton. "Okay."

They stood in the darkened kitchen for another few seconds before making their way back to the living room. Deaton was still sat with Isaac and Jackson either side of him, only now Melissa was with them, staring at Deaton with a look that told Stiles instantly that she'd heard their previous conversation. She knew there was a possibility that Deaton had been manipulating her sin all this time.

Derek ignored Scott's mom and headed over to Deaton, hovering over him with his arms folded, "Find out what you can."

_(*-*)_/

"Any idea who it was?" Asked Stiles as he pressed a small sticky circle onto the map on the basement wall, indicating where the latest body had been found. As predicted it was at the museum, only in the eastern part of the building.

"Doctor Peterson." Isaac answered from his place halfway up the stairs, Jackson a few steps below him. Lydia was sat like a queen on one of the dining room chairs Peter had carried down for her. The werewolf in question was stood perusing the bookshelf.

"You're sure?" Derek frowned, looking over from where he was perched on the edge of the desk.

Isaac nodded, "She fixed my broken arm the year before last."

Stiles looked around sharply to find everyone making a considerable effort not to stare at the other teenager. Clearing his throat, Stiles drew the groups attention back to the situations at hand. "So we have three teenage deaths at the high school, all virgins, and now two bodies at the museum, at least one of which is a doctor."

"They're both Doctors. " Peter corrected nonchalantly, "Doctor Eric Hilyard to be precise." He turned to regard them, "Stiles isn't the only one doing research." he huffed. "He worked on the long term care ward." He added dismissively, wondering over to stand behind Lydia, his hand resting on her shoulder in a naturally comfortable way.

Stiles glanced from the pair to Jackson, who was glaring at them. Above him Isaac was shooting murderous looks into the back of the blond's head. "So, three virgins, two doctors." He nodded, tugging a sheet of paper from the pile of books on the desk, " Definitely some kind of sacrifice, but for what? " he muttered to himself, which was pretty pointless in a room full of werewolves.

"Power obviously." Peter replied, " What else is there?"

"Revenge." Jackson hissed.

"You need power to get revenge. " Peter smirked at the young man, "Believe me, I know."

"But what does any of it have to do with the Five Fold Knot?" Stiles continued, staring down at the sketch in one of Peter's books.

"Who says it does?" Lydia asked. "It could just be something I saw in a book." She dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"Everything is connected." Stiles replied over his shoulder, letting out a frustrated grunt, "We're no closer today than we were four weeks ago."

"I wouldn't say that, " Peter chuckled, "You two sounded pretty close."

Stiles spun around, fixing the ex-Alpha with a dark stare, "Can someone kill him again?"

"It's almost 4am," Derek interrupted, pushing himself off the desk, "we should get some sleep. Peter, you take the couch, Lydia can have Boyd's room."

"What about Stiles? " Peter smirked, ignoring Stiles warning.

"On second thoughts, Peter, go home."

Peter's smile faltered, "My apologies nephew."

Shaking his head, Derek waved a hand at the stairs, shooing them away until it was only he and Stiles remaining in the dimly lit basement. Derek listened as the group made their way through the house, the only voices were those of Peter and Lydia as they wished each other good night.

Heaving a tired sigh, Derek turned and made his way over to Stiles, who stood staring intensely at the chaotic collection of maps and notes. Stepping up behind the teenager, Derek ran his hands along his shoulders. There was tension beneath the fine fabric and Derek massaged the muscles. "Come on, you need to sleep." He whispered gently into Stiles ear.

"I don't need sleep." Stiles dismissed.

"Of course you do." Derek reached up, tugging the pen from between Stiles lips and tossing it aside, before firmly guiding him away from the wall and over to the stairs.

"Where'd everyone go?" Stiles asked, blinking at the suddenly empty basement.

"Bed, just like we're going to."

Stiles grinned, turning in Derek's hold at the bottom of the stairs, "Oh really?" He hummed excitedly, "Why didn't you say so?" He leant forward, capturing Derek's lips with his own and slipping his hands underneath the Alpha's shirt.

Derek moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth to deepen it but flinched away at the first touch of Stiles hands on his waist band. Instantly he reached to grip the teenager's wrists, pulling them away from his jeans and shaking his head. Stiles frowned up at him, a look of fear filling his eyes. Derek pressed a reassuring kiss to his lips again, before explaining. "Stiles," he sighed, running his thumbs over the backs of the teenager's wrists, "We can't… - I can't, not yet."

Stiles flushed crimson in the dim light, "Uh, but we're…"

"I know, but… Stiles you're still only 16…"

"I'd be legal in Europe."

Derek huffed out a breath, "Well regretfully, we're not in Europe and your dad is the Sheriff."

Stiles' shoulder's slumped, "But…come on dude, like everyone is…"

"Stiles." Derek cut in firmly, his eyes burning into the teenager. He let go of Stiles and stepped back, "This is not a negotiation. I want to be with you, but I'm not going to rush into anything. I can't."

There was a second of silence before Stiles inhaled deeply and took a step into Derek's personal space. "I'm sorry." He muttered, "I shouldn't have pushed."

Derek heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head, "This is exactly why I wanted to wait. You're young, you want to get out there and…experience stuff. Maybe we should…?"

"No!" Stiles snapped firmly, "Okay, no, no, no. We're not going there again, Derek. I'm a hormonal teenager yes, but that doesn't mean I'm completely incapable of self-control."

Looking at the teenager, Derek raised a skeptical brow.

"Okay, so I admit, self-control isn't my best character trait, but I'm capable of it when I have to be man, okay? And this," he gestured between them, "is something I want, so…" raising his hands in surrender, Stiles stepped back and made his way up the stairs. "562."

"What?" Derek called after him.

At the top of the stairs, Stiles turned, grinning down at him with a shrug. "Just counting down the days. 562."

Derek laughed, shaking his head.

* * *

 **A/N: I have to admit, I almost had Derek's post kiss freak out end very differently, but decided after much consideration that the anger has gone on too long and the boys need to start moving forward. My original plan would have also made certain future moments more difficult to navigate, so I had Derek finally make a breakthrough. I don't know if it works all that well, it feels a little rushed to me, but that might be me thinking too much.**

 **Also, I know the chapter title doesn't quite fit, but I couldn't really find one from the Dark Angel episode list that really fit the chapter, so I went with this one.**


	16. Art Attack

**Art Attack**

Derek groaned as bright morning sunlight spilled in through a gap in the curtain. His neck felt stiff and his back made an unhealthy noise for someone in their twenties.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Derek got to his feet and stretched out the crook in his back. He should have slept on the floor rather than the uncomfortable corner chair. Once all the knots were relaxed from his spine, Derek took a few steps to the bedside and looked down at his sleeping sister. He pressed his palm to her forehead and was disheartened, if not wholly unsurprised, when it came away clammy. The fever still had a grip on her, though it seemed to be slowly receding. _Thank you for small mercies_. Derek prayed. "Morning, sweetheart." He whispered, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Melissa had tried to convince him that his sister would be better off in the hospital, but Stiles had quickly pointed out that unless they've suddenly started practicing magic, there was nothing they could do. - Except bring attention to the pack.

"This is why packs have Emissaries," Peter had muttered angrily before marching off into the kitchen, the anger still rolling off him in thick heavy waves.

There had been a tense moment before Melissa had nodded understandingly and headed for the door, Stiles following after her. She'd muttered about talking to Scott, then left for the night with a promise to return after her shift the next day to check on Cora.

Derek would like to believe that Melissa could get through to her son, for Stiles sake if nothing else, but deep down Derek doubted it would change anything. Scott was still too angry and self-righteous to accept any kind of olive branch from Derek.

He did hope however that Scott would at least become more cautious of his boss.

Sighing warily, Derek stepped back from the bed and grabbed the bowl of stale tepid water. Walking it to the door, Derek paused, looking back at his baby sister, heart twisting painfully. "I'll be back." He said with a sad smile. She used to laugh at his bad Terminator impression and he wished he could hear that laugh again now.

Stepping out into the hall, Derek closed the door quietly. The house was silent, or at least it would be to a human's ear, but Derek was comforted by the sound of numerous steady heartbeats coming from every corner of the house. He wasn't sure if it was instinct or something more primal that drew him to his room rather than the large family bathroom down the hall, or even the kitchen, but without even realising it, he was balancing the bowl in one hand while cautiously pushing open the bedroom door and stepping into the muted light.

The thick dark navy curtains only allowed the barest amount of light into the room, filling it with a blue hue instead of golden sunlight. The dark of the room meant nothing thanks to his werewolf abilities. Glancing over to the bed, he let out a long sigh at what he saw. It wasn't the fact that Stiles was laying there, stripped down to only his boxers, the covers tossed off the bed to pile on the floor. Rather, on the mattress, Stiles was resting with his feet pressed into the pillows at an awkward angle, while his cheek lay pressed into a pile of books and papers.

Rolling his eyes, Derek shook his head and closed the door quietly behind him before tiptoeing across the room the bathroom, careful not to disturb the lump in his bed.

After emptying the bowl and wringing out the face cloth, Derek set them on the counter and took care of his bladder with a long relieved sigh, his eyes drifting closed for a moment.

Tucking himself away and washing his hands, Derek headed back out into the bedroom, carefully moving closer to the bed. He stared down at Stiles and felt his heart skip. The corner of his mouth curled up and he shook his head. With as much care as he could, he slid the books and papers from beneath Stiles cheek. Closing them and setting them on the nightstand before reaching for the pillows underneath the teenager's feet, pulling them free cautiously, freezing when Stiles grumbled softly. When it was clear the teenager wasn't going to wake, he continued. Gently he curled his fingers around Stiles head and lifted it to slide the pillow beneath him.

That proved to be too much for a sleeping Stiles. He blinked awake and stared up at Derek, his eyes half lidded and a dopy smile spreading across his face. "Hey, what time is it?"

Derek exhaled, lowering Stiles head down onto the pillow and withdrawing his hand. "It's still early." he muttered quietly, "Go back to sleep."

Stiles let out a soft moan and snuggled around on the bed. When Derek straightened and turned to leave him to sleep, Stiles long fingers curled around his wrist, stopping him. "Stay."

Looking down at him, Derek's heart leapt into his throat. "I... - I should get back to Cora." he replied. He'd promised he return, and he didn't want to leave her alone in the bedroom, unconscious and fighting for her life.

That said, she wasn't going anywhere and from what Deaton had said before he'd left, assuming he wasn't lying, she wasn't going to wake up until they found the Emissary, Julia.

"Oh, yeah." Stiles whispered regretfully, his fingers squeezing once before reluctantly dropping away. "You should get back to her." he muttered, his eyes drifting closed once more. He turned over, his bare back exposed to Derek's gaze, and buried his face into the pillow.

Derek stared down at him for a long few seconds, then over to the door. He really should get back to her. He'd promised. Almost instantly Derek's body felt heavy, and the thought of returning to the hard chair beside Cora's bed made him groan. He stared at the inviting space next to Stiles then glanced at the clock. 5:30am. He could get a couple of hours.

Shaking his head at this foolishness, Derek turned, lowering himself down on the edge of the mattress and dragged his Hensley off, his nose wrinkling at the scent of his own sweat filling his nostrils. He let it drop to the floor and grabbed the other pillow, settling it behind his head as he settled back, stretching his body out beside Stiles.

The moment he was settled, Stiles shifted back against him, his butt pressing against Derek's hip. He gave it a little wiggle and huffed frustratingly, making it clear to Derek just what he was expecting. Inhaling deep, Derek twisted around and threw his arm over Stiles waist. "Isn't it too hot for this?" he asked quietly, his breath playing over Stiles shoulder.

Stiles said little more than grumbled nonsense as he shifted back into Derek's embrace, his fingers curling possessively around Derek's wrist as it lay settled on the teenager's stomach.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles inhaled deeply and buried his face deeper into the warmth, slowly becoming aware of the musky scent playing at his senses. He shifted closer to the heat rather than away from it and let out a soft moan when his dick pressed against a solid object. He didn't open his eyes, not wanting to dream to end.

It was such a good dream. Derek, naked in his bed. He wasn't green this time and Stiles was grateful for it. Has hot as being fucked by Hulk Derek was, this was far nicer. Slow, placid love making. Derek whispering his name. Derek's fingers stroking down his back and shoulder. Stiles rocked his hips, wanting friction. Wanting Derek.

"Stiles." Derek moaned deliciously, and Stiles hummed in reply, hips still moving. "S-Stiles, wa-ke up." Derek panted.

But Stiles didn't want to wake, so instead he moved closer still, throwing his leg over the solid form and tilted his face up, mouth opening, lips puckered and searching.

When they finally found the roughness of Derek's jaw, Stiles exhaled a relieved sigh and pressed them harder against the scratchy surface, nipping at the flesh beneath. His fingers groped at bare flesh as he rocked his hips.

"S-sti..."

Stiles silenced the voice, the Derek of his dream yielding to the kiss. The Alpha's hands coming up to clutch at his waist, then down to his ass, kneading the firm globes and eliciting a louder moan from Stiles.

He was so close, his body burning with desire and the need for release.

"S-Stiles, we..." Derek panted and could feel it on his damp lips. "...need to..."

"Derek."

Fingers tighten on his ass and then his hips, and before he's able to feel the explosive ecstasy of an orgasm, he's being tossed aside. He startled awake with a pained frustrated whine and it took a couple of seconds for his vision to adjust.

Derek was there, staring down at him, face flushed and eyes darker than Stiles has ever seen them. There's a thin ring of red around the pupil that sends a blistering hot bolt of arousal through him. It's so strong Stiles wonders how he hasn't just cum. Instead he jerks his hips up, rubbing his clothed cock against Derek's equally hard one, and sucked in a sharp breath.

Derek let out a low deep sound in the back of his throat, that to Stiles ear is part desperate whine and part angry growl. The Alpha's hips rocked down, seemingly of their own accord, judging by the face Derek pulls.

Spreading his legs so Derek was able to slide more comfortably between his thighs, and allowing their erections to rub deliciously, Stiles lifted his hands, combing both up through the short hairs at the back of Derek's head until he's able to get a firm handful of lush thick hair to pull the man's mouth down.

There was a moment of resistance and Stiles fingers began to loosen, but then Derek's hot mouth was on his, opening up to him.

A corner of Stiles mind registered how gross it was, morning breath lingering on their tongues, but the feel of Derek's cock against his own, the weight of the man above him, pressing him down into the mattress, swept away any momentary disgust.

Derek's fingers bit into Stiles shoulders with each thrust of the man's hips, his body sliding against Stiles own while they kissed. Stiles had already been so close and it wasn't long before he felt his balls tighten. Twisting his head, he panted against Derek's shoulder, "So close," he increased his own pace, one knee rising to press into the Alpha's ribs, his heel grinding into the rough fabric of Derek's denim covered butt cheek.

"Stiles," Derek muttered breathlessly, "I... I'm..."

"Yeah, " Stiles replied, hips rocking frantically.

"W-we should s-stop." Derek moaned, even as his hips kept moving.

Stiles was quiet for a moment, his mind and body at war, "Yeah." He nodded even as his fingers tightened further in Derek's hair, right hand dropping to grip at the man's ass cheek, kneading and squeezing, "Of c-course, yeah. Should stop. Right... now..."

"Your Da..."

"Will k-kill..."

"W-wrong." Derek muttered, voice thick and low, hot breath dancing across Stiles neck.

"Sooooo wrooong," Stiles groaned, his body going rigid and his back arching. "Fuaahhhck, Derek." He moaned into the werewolf's shoulder, his teeth digging into the flesh as his release pooled between them.

Derek growled against Stiles throat, his hips moving faster and faster, the bed creaking along with the frantic pace. The blunt, flat edge of Derek's bunny-teeth scraped tantalizingly along the curve of Stiles shoulder and neck, and the man's sharp nails pierced the delicate flesh of Stiles hip and ass, causing the hapless teenager to groan and rock harder against Derek.

Stiles gritted his teeth at the sensitivity of his dick when finally, his orgasm subsided and his body became limp beneath Derek. He was little more than a rag doll for the older man to find his own release, and Stiles was just fine with that. He lay motionless and let his hands glide lazily over Derek's flanks.

It wasn't long before Derek followed him over the cliff edge. The Alpha's body ridged and shaking as he found his own release in his jeans.

Panting, Derek rolled off to collapse next to an equally breathless Stiles. As the lustful haze slowly ebbed away, the reality of what had happened crashed over Stiles like a tidal wave. "Shit!" He snapped breathlessly, scrambling up and away from Derek, eyes wide with guilt. "Shit, shit, shit, I'm sorry."

Derek twisted his head and shoved himself up, turning to stare at a horrified Stiles, who was now hurriedly clawing off the bed and pacing the floor. "Stiles?"

"Shit, I know. " he panted, "I got carried away, I'm sorry. God, I can't believe, shit."

Derek's nose wrinkled at the sudden Sharp tang of Stiles scent, all too familiar and harrowing. He hurriedly climbed out of bed and over to the teenager, grabbing him by the shoulders. Stiles looked up at him, eyes panicked.

"I've ruined everything." Stiles muttered frantically, shaking his head, "I knew you didn't want..."

"Stiles."

"You told me and I..."

"Stiles."

"God, I...I'm no better than..."

" _Stiles_! " Derek finally shouted, giving the younger man a harsh shake, "Stop."

Stiles looked up at him, surprised and silent.

Derek smiled down at him softly, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss to the teenager's lips. When he pulled back, Stiles was still staring at him, and Derek pressed a large warm palm to the side of Stiles neck. "You did nothing wrong." He said gently. "If anyone should be feeling guilty right now, it's me. I'm the adult here."

Stiles groaned, shaking his head, "Oh my god, dude, I started it."

"And I could have, _should_ have stopped it." Derek muttered, his fingers slowly retreating from Stiles naked shoulders.

Stiles hands clung to Derek's wrists, stopping his retreat, the panic still in his eyes. "Don't. Please don't. Oh my god, why can't we just..." He let out a frustrated strangled sound.

Derek moved in closer, raising his hands to cradle Stiles head, his thumb brushing gently across the teenager's jaw. "Your dad is going to kill me." Derek whispered, pressing his lips too Stiles forehead before capturing the younger man's mouth in a hot open kiss.

"Dad won't know." Stiles leant back, meeting Derek's gaze, "Unless you intend to stalk down to the station and turn yourself in."

"Well..." Derek hummed thoughtfully.

Stiles wacked at his arm, hard, "Don't even joke about it." He warned sternly.

With a laugh, Derek lowered his mouth back to Stiles and wrapped his arms around the teenager's shoulders, moaning softly. They stood there kissing for a few seconds, then Stiles broke away, his nose wrinkling, "I need the bathroom. - And fresh underwear."

"Right," Derek laughed, then winced as he moved away from Stiles. He reached down to adjust himself. "You go clean yourself up, I'll sort you out some stuff."

Stiles grinned dopily at him, "Thanks." As he made his way into the bathroom, he paused, looking back over his shoulder, lip curling mischievously, "You know, we should probably conserve water, with the heatwave and all."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Stiles." Derek muttered breathlessly, "We both know what will happen."

Stiles turned, pressing his shoulder to the door frame, "We'll save the environment." He replied with all seriousness, then started to smirk again. "Besides, we've already broken the no sex before my birthday rule."

Derek inhaled sharply and dragged his hand through his hair, "No." He stated firmly, "That was merely a... - An accident."

"An accident? " Stiles scoffed, "So you...accidentally rubbed yourself off on me?"

Derek let out a quiet growl and flushed scarlet. "We weren't in full control of our...faculties."

"Speak for your..."

"We were both half asleep, " Derek interrupted Stiles' argument, "We can't be held accountable for our...actions in such a situation."

Stiles stared at him, mouth open ready to call bullshit and try once again to persuade the older man to join him in the shower, but...the look in Derek's green eyes, so desperate, so...guilty, Stiles knew if he pushed any more Derek would run for the hills, and there'd be no talking him back down. - And Stiles knew he was responsible for all this, no matter what Derek said. He'd gotten carried away, and even once he'd realized it wasn't a dream, he hadn't made an effort to stop.

A thick wave of nausea rolled over him. He was no better than Kate, using Derek for his own pleasure.

"Hey, stop!" Derek said sharply, gripping his arm. When had he moved so close, Stiles wondered, blinking at him, bemused. "I know what's going on in that head of yours and stop, you did nothing wrong, we just got carried away. We're gonna hit the reset button, okay?"

"Reset." Stiles muttered.

"We're gonna pretend it didn't happen, for both our sakes," Derek told him firmly, "It was just a really incredible dream, right?"

Stiles exhaled a long breath, nodding in agreement, both grateful and disappointed. Then he grinned as Derek's words took root. "Incredible?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek huffed, shaking his head at the teenager, "Yeah. - I can't imagine how the real thing is going to live up to it." He deadpanned, stepping away from Stiles and marching back to the dresser.

Stiles grinned widely and pushed himself off the door frame, "Oh, trust me, dude, the _real thing_ is gonna blow your mind." He reassured, turning and vanishing into the bathroom.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles hurried down the stairs with a spring in his step. Morning sex was as awesome as all the movies made it look, and sure it was followed by a heavy dose of angsty self-loathing on both their parts. - Mostly his. – But they'd talked it through and agreed it was awesome, and they should totally do it again. In 561 days' time.

He'd left Derek to clean himself up seeing that he'd insisted that showering together was against the rules. Damn him. It wasn't as if they couldn't control themselves. They could have totally stood in the shower completely naked, water rolling over all Derek's hard toned muscles and not made grabby hands. He wasn't a Neanderthal.

Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Stiles palmed his dick, forcefully telling himself to behave. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, gritting his teeth until his wayward body was back under control. _561_ _days_ , he said to himself _. Just 561 days_.

With the number rolling around in his mind Stiles headed for the kitchen. He found it empty and sighed in relief. They'd all left, which meant they hadn't heard any of what had happened, or at the very least, he wouldn't have to face them just yet.

Stiles yanked open the refrigerator and grabbed the large bottle of milk. It was barely half-full when he lifted it free from the shelf, having drank most of it when he'd woken from his seizure. He chugged down the entirety, gasping breathlessly when he lowered the bottle.

Stiles snagged a can of soda before kicking the door closed, then carried the empty bottle to the sink, giving it a rinse before tossing it in the recycling. He looked around the room, uncertain what to do. He should probably get back to his research, but he was in too a relaxed mood to dive back into the stress of hunting down a murderer, instead he dragged himself to the front door, intending to laze on the porch until Derek was done with his shower and they could spend a few hours smuggled on the couch, making out like teenagers, because Stiles _was_ a teenager and he was finally in a position to live up to the cliché.

His stomach dropped as he opened the door and came face to face with four sets of eyes, all staring at him in an all too knowing way. _Shit_. He thought bashfully.

"Well, good morning Stiles." Peter said smugly. "Did you _sleep_ well." he smirked.

Siles narrowed his gaze at the man lounging on the porch swing, Lydia's bare feet in his lap. His right hand curled around her ankle. Stiles let his gaze shift over to Lydia, laying propped up against the arm of the swing, a book in her lap as he watched him with a scarlet tinge to her cheeks with defied the smirk on her cherry red lips. "Better than you did, no doubt." Stiles said flatly, folding his arms over his chest and pressing his shoulder into the door frame. "How was the couch?"

Stiles meaning wasn't lost on anyone, especially not Jackson who huffed bitterly behind Stiles.

He turned to see the fellow teenager sitting on the railing at the other end of the porch, coffee mug resting against his thigh. He was staring at Peter with so much loathing that Stiles wondered how long it would be until they came to blows once more. Stiles lifted uncomfortably.

The teenager's eyes dropped to the steps in front of him where Isaac was sat, back to them all, his head bowed as if he could disappear into himself. Something in Stiles twisted with sympathy. He'd been where Isaac was, trapped in the shadows of the chaotic mess that was Lydia and Jackson's relationship, watching the pair fight and make up over and again.

Though it was worse for Isaac wasn't it? Lydia had at least never given him any real indication she felt anything for him. Jackson on the other hand, assuming Derek was right, had at the very least made out with Isaac, boosting his hope before running back to Lydia. Who apparently seemed not to want him anymore.

"Hey Isaac." Stiles greeted, startling the beta. He turned and stared up at Stiles in surprise, his eyes blood shot with shadows beneath.

"Hey." He grunted out and Stiles shot him what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

"So what are you all doing out here?" Stiles asked, keeping his focus on Isaac.

"Would have thought that was obvious." Jackson snapped, "We're escaping your sexcapeds." he sounded bitter, and jealous. Though Stiles doubted that jealousy was aimed at either him or Derek. More likely he was pissed that Stiles was having sex while he wasn't.

Stiles cheeks burned and he cleared his throat awkwardly. He was serious about that sound proofing. "Well...uh..."

Lydia gave a light chuckle, "Don't worry Stiles, Jackson's just pissed he's not getting any." she said sharply, her eyes burning into her boyfriend. – Or ex-boyfriend. It certainly seemed as if things between the pair were done, considering the intense glaring going on between them.

Stiles shifted awkwardly. Called _it._ He thought, grinning at his feet. "At least the heat has finally broken." he said in a desperate attempt to divert the conversation.

Peter chuckled, "Yes, finally." he said, meeting Stiles gaze. He had a feeling the ex-alpha wasn't only talking about the weather.

Stiles startled as a set of arms curled around his waist, his head snapping around to find Derek smiling at him, his hair wet, his face flushed. His heart skipped, breath hitching. "Hey." he muttered seconds before Derek leant forward to capture his mouth in a chaste kiss. "Hey!" Stiles exclaimed, outraged when Derek sneakily snatched the can of soda from his grip. "Asshole."

Derek ignored him, practically emptying the can, his eyes scanning the porch. "Any news from the Sheriff?" he asked.

Stiles sucked in a breath. He hadn't even thought about his father. Isaac shook his head in reply, turning back to stare out into the woods. Wriggling free of Derek's hold, Stiles breathed out, "I guess I should head home, find out what's going on."

The smile fell from Derek's face and he nodded. "I...yeah. I'll grab the keys." He turned to head back into the house when Lydia spoke, getting to her feet.

"I can drive him."

Derek looked as if he was going to argue, but then he pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. Stiles turned fully to face him, smiling softly. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. After I've spoken to Dad and - grabbed a change of clothes."

Derek frowned, causing Stiles to let out a breathless laugh.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he whispered, not that there was any point while surrounded by werewolves. "No naughty business. I just want some stuff here; you know in case. - I mean, unless you don't want..."

"No. - I mean, yes. That makes sense. In case of...research."

Behind them Peter let out a groan and Jackson made a gagging noise. Stiles flipped them off while pulling Derek into a slow kiss.

Breaking the kiss with a great reluctance, Stiles forced himself to step away. "Later." he said quietly, moving backwards with a soppy grin on his face. As was typical of Stiles, he miscalculated the steps and ended up flat on his ass in the dirt, staring up at the porch. Derek huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, and Stiles just grinned.

"I'm going to be sick." Jackson gagged, moving to leave with Stiles and Lydia, only to have his arm snagged by Derek.

"You're not going anywhere. We need to talk."

Jackson shot Derek a rebellious glare, that was quickly shot down with a flash of Alpha red. "You too Peter." he added, noting the smug look on his uncles face as he moved to join Lydia at the bottom of the steps.

Stiles looked curiously from one to the other, suddenly reluctant to leave. If Derek was going to have 'the discussion' then Stiles felt, he should be there. For moral support, but Derek waved him off.

"Say hi to your dad." Derek smiled, his fingers still wrapped around Jackson's bicep.

"You sure?" Stiles replied.

"Its fine." Derek reassured with a nod.

Heaving a sigh, Stiles began to drag himself away, pausing only when he noticed that Lydia was still stood there, staring up at the group of men, clearly as uncertain about leaving as Stiles was. Reaching out, Stiles grabbed her arm gently and tugged her away, "Come on Lyds."

_(*-*)_/

The drive home was tense. Lydia's fingers tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the highway back to town. Stiles sat in the passenger seat, her chem book in his lap. Looking for a distraction he opened it and began to start flicking through the pages. "It's not like he's going to skin them alive." he reassured with an amused huff, though it fell a little flat. "It's just...important pack business."

Lydia scoffed dismissively, "Then why aren't you still there." she countered. "I'm not an idiot Stiles, I know they're talking about me."

"Not just you." he muttered.

"Fine, Me and Jackson." She corrected.

"And Peter. - And Isaac." Stiles added.

Lydia's head snapped around, brows knitted. "Isaac?"

Stiles pressed his lips together and bent a little lower over the book, avoiding her questioning gaze.

"Stiles?" Lydia sing-songed, and he gritted his teeth against the sense memory reaction the sound had over him.

"Look, it's not my place, okay. Talk to Jackson."

She was silent for a few seconds before finally exhaling a long resigned breath, "I wondered how long it would be." she muttered, her eyes back on the road.

Stiles frowned over at her, "What?"

"Jackson and Isaac."

"Wait, you know?" Stiles gaped, surprised. Though in hindsight he didn't know why, this was Lydia after all.

"Did I know that my boyfriend was bisexual? Of course I knew." she replied, sounding insulted. "Did I know he had a crush on the boy down the street? I had my suspicions. Did I know it had gone further than a crush?" she shrugged, "No."

"How long?" Stiles asked, twisting a little in the seat.

"How long have I suspected?" Lydia's gaze flickered over to him and Stiles nodded eagerly. "About as long as I've know you had a thing for me. Middle school." she shrugged, attention back on the road. "I'm pretty sure the only reason he started dating me to begin with was to convince his parents he wasn't like Danny."

Stiles eyes widened with surprise, he hadn't expected Mr and Mrs Whittmore to be homophobes. Not when they'd been so accepting of Danny, but... Well, it was different when it was your own kid, right?

"I don't think they mean to be...you know, homophobic," Lydia said, putting voice to his thoughts. "They just..." she shrugged again, "...want him to be... _normal_." Her nose wrinkled with disgust. "They'd probably have a meltdown if they knew about his current lifestyle." she smirked wickedly. "A bisexual werewolf," Lydia chuckled, shooting Stiles a bright grin.

Stiles nodded, grinning back. "How did you know he had a thing for Isaac?"

She looked at him with a raised brow that says she knows everything. "I know he tried to get his dad to do something about Isaac's dad but, well... I remember Jackson's frustration and worry for ages, and then...he just...backed off. I don't know what his dad said to him, but..."

"Wow." Stiles shook his head, "I mean, Dad had his suspicions but he could never find any proof." Stiles sighed sadly. "He still regrets it."

Lydia nodded understandingly. "Coach Lahey was pretty well respected, and... feared," she exhaled, "I... I know he had a lot of people in his pocket," her features darkened and Stiles watched her knuckles go white once more.

Stiles didn't press any further, instead going back to the chem book. He tugged at a couple of pieces of paper. Lydia's notes he assumed. "What about you and Peter?" The curiosity was just too much to stand any longer, and if they were apparently in sharing mode, then... "I mean, after what he did how can you even be around him, let alone….?"

She exhaled a tired sigh. "The attack?" she muttered, flinching slightly.

"Yeah, and the mind games." Stiles added.

"The mind games. The hallucinations, they weren't down to Peter, they were on me. The Banshee in me. We're still trying to figure out what it all means, why it happened." she sighed. "It's why I've been spending so much time with him."

"Is that all it is? You're not…?" Stiles asked carefully.

Lydia blushed, chewing on her lower lip before replying. "I... I can't explain it okay, but we have this...thing. This connection. - But it's more than that. He...he just...gets me. He sees me as something more than..." she sighed, "The school bitch. He sees the real me. – I don't have to… pretend around him."

"I saw the _real_ you." Stiles reminded her and she shot him the worst kind of pitying look. "And _I_ didn't try to kill you." He's aware that he sounds jealous and angry, but he can't help it.

"He wasn't in control of himself Stiles." Lydia replied sharply. "You don't know him. - He's not like that, not really. - He... He deserves a second chance Stiles, just like Jackson." She turned to meet his gaze, "Like Derek."

Stiles was pinned by her stare, the tone of her voice making it clear that she knew more than she was willing to actually say, and he felt his gut twist. Was it her Banshee side? Did it allow her to know Derek's greatest secret, and his biggest regret?

Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes away from her and lifted the paper, "What's this?" he asked in a desperate change of subject.

Lydia looked at the drawing and scoffed, "Nothing, just a doodle. I was bored waiting for you and Derek to finish..." her lip curled at the corner as she let the end of the sentence hang in the air.

Stiles stared at her profile for a second before looking back to the sketch of the large tree. "A doodle." he whispered to himself, unconvinced.

He was still staring at the picture when the car suddenly swerved and began to topple over, glass imploding in on them.


	17. The Berrisford Agenda

**The Berrisford Agenda**

The second Derek closed the door and turned to find the three betas sat in an uncomfortable tense silence, he regretted it. He had no plan and no idea how me was meant to actually have this conversation. His mom had always made being Alpha look so easy, and not for the first time he wished she was there to guide him through it. - Which predictably led to a tidal wave of guilt.

Dragging his fingers through his mostly dry hair, Derek stepped further into the living room and cleared his throat. They were all sat in the same seats they'd taken the previous evening, with Peter lounging on the couch and Jackson in the armchair, while Isaac sat beside the fireplace looking like a child.

Derek sighed, "So..." He exhaled, looking between them uncertainly. Maybe he should have accepted Stiles silent offer to stay, he could use the moral support. Also, Stiles would know what to say, or more accurately he'd just bumble his way through until he got the desired result. Seriously, how was he a super-secret science experiment?

"What's so funny?" Peter asked, pulling Derek's attention back to the situation at hand.

Schooling his features, Derek straightened like a regimental sergeant major. "Nothing."

Peter let out a half sigh-half moan sound and shook his head, "Jesus." He let out an exasperated scoff, "He just left." He rolled his eyes, but there was a kind of... warmth in the older man's features as he gave Derek a small grin, that reminded Derek of the good old days, before...

Derek glowered at him, "We're not here to discuss Stiles, we're here to talk about Lydia," He looked at Jackson and Isaac. "and _all_ of you." His eyes settled on Isaac and he felt his gut cramp as the teenager curled into himself. "Isaac?" When the beta lifted his gaze, Derek gave him a reassuring smile, "You don't need to be here." Jackson and Peter were the problem, Isaac had made it clear over the last twenty-four hours that whatever bitter heartbreak he was feeling concerning Jackson and Lydia, wasn't going to affect the pack. He'd been civil to Lydia, whereas Jackson and Peter were clearly unable to be with each other.

"What?" Jackson snapped argumentatively, his eyes shooting to Isaac. What the teenager was going to say died on his tongue as he watched Isaac push his long limbs off the floor and drag his feet across the room. As he passed Jackson, the young man reached out, attempting to snag Isaac's wrist, only for the teenager to dodge his touch and carry on to the stairs.

Derek waited for Isaac to vanish up them, listening for the sound of the betas door closing and the now familiar hum of muffled music that indicated he was blocking out their conversation. Maybe Stiles was right about that sound proofing.

Turning back to the remaining two betas, Derek cleared his throat. He paced over to the fireplace, still trying to figure out what exactly he was supposed to say.

"We haven't got all day Derek." Peter sighed, and Derek shot him a disdainful look.

"What's going on between you and Lydia?" He demanded, eyes fixed on his uncle.

Peter lent back, regarding him, "I'm not sure that's any of your business, _nephew_."

Derek narrowed his gaze, "I'm the Alpha, and if there's disquiet in the pack, it very much is my business. You know better than anyone what situations like this can do to packs?"

"Situations like what? " Peter smirked, brow quirked amusingly.

Growing frustrated with his Uncle's dismissive attitude, Derek took a step forward in warning, "Peter, stay away from Lydia Martin."

Peter was on his feet in a millisecond, "Excuse me?"

"She's twice your age Peter, and she already has a boyfriend." He gestured back to Jackson, "Who happens to be your pack brother."

Peter's eyes flashed rebelliously, "Firstly, I don't remember accepting you as my Alpha, Derek."

"You're here, that's acceptance enough. " Derek growled through gritted teeth. "And you know it. - If you don't want to be in my pack, Peter, you can leave and fend for yourself."

There was a slight ripple to Peter's features as if his instinct was to shift, but he was holding it at bay. Derek had to acknowledge it was impressive, a year ago he would have attacked.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, "Allow me to remind you, _Alpha_ , that you were having sex not an hour ago with a sixteen-year-old." Peter said with restraint.

Derek stiffened, his claws biting into his palm. "That's different."

"How exactly? " Peter pressed, brow lifted curiously.

"Stiles isn't... He's not like other teenagers his age."

"Neither is Lydia. She's not even human." The ex-alpha pointed out.

Derek opened his mouth intent on replying that neither was Stiles, but that would be a betrayal, so he snapped it closed again. He took a calming breath and trying to regain his composure, shoving the guilt and shame that was slowly bubbling up inside him, down as far as it could go. "Peter," he muttered finally, "She's..."

"She's what Derek? " he seethed, "Too good for me?"

"After everything you did to her!" Snapped Jackson furiously, leaping to his feet. Derek shot his hand out, holding the teenager back.

Peter turned angry blue eyes on the young beta. "Everything I did to her?" He scoffed viciously, "And what about what you did to her? She needed love and comfort, she needed support, and where were you? Too consumed by your own self-loathing and desires. Where were you when I...?" He trailed off, voice trembling.

"Enough!" Derek ordered, shooting Jackson a cold look and giving him a shove, before turning back to his uncle while Jackson reluctantly stepped away.

"Are you the only ones allowed redemption?" Peter asked icily. "Are you the only ones who deserve a second chance?" He looked between them, "I'm not the only one here with blood on my hands, and neither am I the only one that made mistakes. We've all fallen under the power and control of others. - Yet _I'm_ the villain here?"

Derek froze, meeting his Uncle's accusatory gaze. _Did he know? Oh god, he had to know. How?_ With his heart racing, Derek strolled away, leaning heavily on the fireplace, eyes closed as he tried to calm himself. "You killed..." He began only to trail off, voice closing around his sister's name. " I'm sorry. " he muttered finally, words heavy with regret.

"I know." Peter sighed. "So am I."

The room fell silent, a thick cloud hanging over them. Derek couldn't bring himself to turn and face the judgement of his uncle. "Isaac." He said finally, deciding to put his own past aside. Turning slowly, he fixed his green gaze on Jackson, who looked torn between defiance and surrender. "Jackson?"

"What?" The teenager snapped, dropping his gaze after only a few seconds.

"What is going on with you and Isaac?"

"Nothing!" Jackson turned, marching off into the kitchen.

Derek didn't wait, shadowing his steps instantly. "He's not a toy Jackson!" He growled protectively. "You can't just screw him around! He deserves better than that. You don't get to lead him on and then dump him to go running back to your girlfriend, that's unfair!"

Jackson was trying his best to ignore Derek, moving around the kitchen, grabbing a soda and a bagel, pulling random jars out of the cabinets.

" _Jackson_! He's been through enough; he doesn't need your abuse too!"

That seemed to hit a nerve because suddenly Jackson was turning, eyes flashing blue with anger. "I've never laid a finger on Isaac! Not once!" He growled furiously, "I never would!"

Derek narrowed his eyes at the flushed beta, listening to the way his heart raced frantically. Watching the way his fingers flexed at his side. Inhaling slowly, Derek folded his arms, "There's more than one way to hurt someone." He said cautiously.

Jackson flinched, turning his back to Derek, "There's nothing going on." He argued. "It was just a... - Nothing happened. I'm not gay!" He spat, twisting his head to fix Derek with an angry glare.

Dragging in a deep breath, Derek stared at him, then glanced over to where Peter was perched on the edge of the kitchen table.

Peter shrugged, then looked at Jackson. "There's nothing wrong with liking guys, kid."

Jackson growled, spinning and taking a threatening step towards the older beta. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Give you a chance to steal my girl."

Peter pushed to his feet, moving to meet the teenager. This time, Derek stayed back, waiting and watching. "Kiddo, I already have her, and you know it."

Jackson took a swing for Peter, but he blocked it easily, twisting Jackson's arm up behind his back.

"Peter." Derek warned, but continued to stand on the side-lines.

His uncle shot him a brief reassuring look, then turned back to Jackson. "You don't want her anyway." He said quietly, "Not anymore."

" I love her! " Jackson argued.

Peter huffed out a dry laugh. "Funny, so do I."

"Fuck you!"

Jackson gasped in a pained breath when Peter wrenched his arm up a little higher, "Watch your mouth, boy."

Derek stepped forward finally, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder and shaking his head. To his surprise, Peter stepped back instantly, brushing his hands on his dark jeans. Jackson turned, gripping his shoulder and showing his teeth to Peter.

"Jackson," Derek said quietly, meeting the teenager's glowing blue eyes, "stay away from Isaac."

The unnatural blue faded, and Jackson blinked up at him. "What?"

"Stay away from him. "

Panic flooded Jackson's face and Derek smelt the fear, "Your kicking me out the pack?" He gasped, physically shaking.

Derek's eyes widened in horror, "What? No! No, of course not. Just..." He breathed slowly, reaching out to set a reassuring palm against Jackson's neck, "He's your pack brother, and that's _all_." The panic faded but there was still something there in Jackson's eyes, a sadness that Derek understood too well. "Unless you can offer him something more..."

"I'm not... "

"Then you stay away from him. That's an order. You want to fool around with random gu...people, find someone else. Isaac is off limits. Are we understood?" Jackson looked to be on the verge of arguing, then his shoulders slumped and he lowered his head, nodding.

"Understood." He whispered, his voice rough.

"Good."

Jackson looked up, fixing Peter with another hard look, "What about him?"

Derek looked over his shoulder, meeting his uncle's cautious blue eyes, " If Lydia wants to be with him..."

"But... "

"If he's not hurting her, it's her choice."

"Not hurting her?" Jackson snapped, "What about what he did?"

Derek looked between the betas and sighed. "He's..."

A loud thump from the floor above, followed by the sound of breaking furniture, cut the conversation short. The three werewolves took off for the stairs, racing up them and following the sound of a scuffle to Cora's room. The door was open and Derek stared wide eyed as one of the twins held Isaac by the throat, his back pressing into the wall. Isaac clawed at the other werewolf's wrists and torso, but the twin didn't even seem to flinch. Before Derek could say a word, Jackson was rushing across the room to Isaac, claws swiping, a loud roar filling the room.

By the bed, the other twin had his arm under Cora, preparing to lift her from the mattress. Fear flooded Derek at the thought of something happening to his baby sister and he flew at the werewolf, eyes flashing scarlet and a vicious alpha roar slicing right through the air. Everyone froze, Cora's body landing with a heavy thump against the mattress. Derek's clawed fingers snapped out, gripping the twin by the throat and driving him back hard into the wall, teeth bared in another Alpha roar. The twin in his grasp wilted, the struggle subsiding. He gasped for breath as Derek's hold on him tightened.

"What are you doing here?" He growled furiously into the twin's face. The teenager was turning blue but Derek didn't care.

"She said, if we brought her back, she wouldn't die." The other twin behind him spattered, and Derek's head snapped around to see the teenager being held captive by the three betas, his eyes flickering blue and filled with panic as he looked from Derek to his brother.

"Who?" He seethed, glaring at the teen.

"Jul..."

"Don't!" The twin in Derek's grasp gasped out, and Derek tightened his hold a little more.

"Julia."

"You're working for the emissary?" Jackson gasped, "I don't Danny there was something off with you."

"Ethan?" Derek noted, before turning to the one in his grasp, "That would make you Aiden?"

The werewolf lifted his chin defiantly, which only made Derek angry.

"Please," Ethan pleaded, "We're just trying to save Cora!"

"Why? " Derek demanded, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Ethan looked from Derek to his brother, then over to Cora. "She's pack."

Derek's eyes flashed, "Your pack?" He snarled, "She's _my_ sister, she's _my_ pack!"

Ethan wilted again, concerned for his twin. "Sure, okay. Sorry." He sputtered, "Just please," he looked to his twin, who'd gone white beneath Derek's fingers. "We just want... He loves her!" Ethan finally yelled, struggling to break free of Isaac and Jackson's hold.

Derek's eyes widened as his gaze flickered between the pair. Relaxing his hold on the teenager, Aiden sucked in a shaky breath, his body trembling and Ethan exhaled a relieved sigh. "Thank you." Ethan panted, the fight going out of him.

"Take him down stairs." Derek ordered, attention still fixed on Aiden, who was gasping in a lungful of breath, his eyes shifted to where Cora lay awkwardly on the bed. He listened as Jackson, Isaac and Peter manhandled Ethan out of the room. "Don't let him out of your sight, and if he tries to leave..." He knew he didn't need to finish that order.

Alone with Cora and the remaining twin, Derek took a step back, but didn't shift back into his human form. " Where is she? "

Aiden rubbed at his throat, meeting the Alpha's hard red gaze and refusing to reply.

"He said you loved her?" Derek jerked his chin in the direction of Cora, "If that's true, tell me where the Emissary is or she's going to die."

"Let me take her or she's going to die." Aiden argued, his voice weak from Derek's assault.

Shaking his head, Derek huffed out a humourless laugh, "She stole my sister once, I won't let her be taken again. You tell me where she is, I'll kill her and Cora will be fine."

Aiden shook his head, "You can't kill her, she's too powerful."

Derek took a threatening step forward, "Tell me where she is?"

Aiden stared at him, body language defiant, but the way his pale eyes flickered electric blue told Derek the omega was rightfully intimidated. Then the teenager's gaze drifted to the bed, his eye's searching over Cora's features. Either the kid was a really good actor, or he genuinely did care.

A mixture of feelings swirled around in his chest at the look the omega was giving his baby sister, but she wasn't a baby anymore. She was 17 and had spent the past seven years living a different life doing...god knows what. His gut clenched at the memory of Cora's green eyes tainted with blue. Aiden's were blue too. "Who did you kill?" He heard himself demand.

Aiden's head snapped around to fix Derek with a hard defensive look. "No one who didn't deserve it." He spat back.

Narrowing his eyes, Derek folded his arms across his chest once more, "Your eyes say differently."

Aiden frowned, his lips drawing into a thin line. "What?"

"They're blue, which means you've taken a life. A human life. - An _innocent_ life."

Aiden stared at him it made Derek feel suddenly uncomfortable, "That's..." The omega muttered, "No. They deserved to die. "

That feeling in Derek's gut twisted again, "Is that what she told you?"

Cautiously, Aiden moved closer to the bed, his hand stretched out. Every instinct in Derek wanted to leap forward and drag the teen away from his sister, but if he wanted answers he knew he had to show some sign of compromise. "We were abandoned." Aiden started, lowering himself down to kneel beside the bed, the fingers of his right hand curling around Cora's, while his left slipped beneath her neck. "Thrown away like garbage. Julia gave us a home; she gave us a pack." He lifted Cora's hand to his lips, eyes drifting closed for a second.

"At what price?" Derek seethed.

Aiden looked up at him, "Don't judge us!" he snapped furiously, "Where were you?"

Derek narrowed his eyes at the teenager and stepped forward, "How dare you!" he growled, "My sister and I thought she was dead. I've spent the past seven years mourning her." His voice cracked with the confession, "Don't assume to know me."

Aiden wilted once again, despite the defiance in his eyes. He turned back to Cora, "She thought you were dead too." he told Derek. "Julia said..." the teenager trailed off, once again pressing his lips to the back of Cora's hand.

"The Emissary lied to you. She's made you kill for her and is now trying to kill Cora. Tell me where she is and I can stop her."

Aiden scoffed, "I just told you, she's too powerful. She has the power of the Nemeton at her disposal."

"The Nemeton." Derek frowned. The word rang a distant bell in the back of his mind, a faint memory. His mother's hushed voice. His father's concern. - Deaton's reassurance.

"Come with me." he ordered, stepping towards the door. When he looked back to find Aiden still knelt beside his sister's bed, he gritted his teeth, curling his fingers into tight fists at his side. "I _said_ come with me. I'm not leaving you here alone with her." He added before the Omega had a chance to argue.

Reluctantly, Aiden got to his feet, Cora's fingers slipping from his own the further he moved away from her, until her hand dropped to hang limply off the edge of the bed. "What are you going to do with me?"

Derek regarded him for a long silent moment, before replying in a cold distant voice, "Right now... Nothing." He waved his hand out into the corridor, "After you."

With a final look back at Cora, Aiden stepped over the threshold.

_(*-*)_/

"They can't be trusted." Peter said, eyes fixed on the twin werewolves as they sat awkwardly on the sofa, shoulders pressed together.

"I _don't_ trust them." Derek grumbled, his back pressed against the kitchen counter, cell phone pressed to his ear as it rang out. "They have information."

Peter gritted out a frustrated noise, "Fine, let me _talk_ to them."

Derek's gaze snapped to his uncle. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so. - Dammit, he's not answering." Derek frowned, staring down at the phone, a sense of foreboding slowly seeping into his bones.

"Maybe he's sleeping." Peter huffed, "You probably tired him out this morning. – Or perhaps he's busy with _more_ research." he added with a smirk dismissively.

"They only left a little while ago." Derek argued, fear growing in his gut. "He always answers my calls." pushing himself off the counter, he turned to Peter. "Call Lydia. _Now_."

Suddenly alert, Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone, his thumb moving swiftly over the screen. The room filled with the sound of ringing as Peter held it out. With each unanswered second that passed, Derek's heart beat that much quicker and the panic grew.

Looking up from the cell screen Derek saw is concern mirrored back at him. "Go." he ordered. Peter headed for the door, Jackson on his heels. He stepped back into the den, fixing the twins with a look of warning. Lifting his cell once more, he scrolled through the contacts, hitting the number for the Sheriff's office. Part of him wanted to wait for news, but he knew that Stiles' father would never forgive him if Derek didn't let him know something might be wrong.

A friendly female voice answered, _"Beacon Hill's Sheriff, how can I help you?"_

"I need to speak to the Sheriff."

 _"And who shell I say is calling._ " the woman asked.

Inhaling deeply Derek replied uncomfortably, "Derek Hale."

 _"I'm sor..."_

"It's about Stiles." Derek cut through before she could dismiss him further.

 _"Putting you through."_ the woman replied, her tone instantly filled with concern.

After a few long anxious seconds, the Sheriff's voice filled his ear. _"Hale? What's happened to Stiles?"_

"I don't know, maybe nothing." Derek tried to reassure, "But he's not answering his phone."

 _"That's hardly..."_

"He never ignores my calls, Sir. Never. He knows it could be important." The Sheriff's sigh told Derek the man thought he was overreacting. "Sir, he's always on call for... _Club_ business."

There was a long silence. When the Sheriff spoke again, it was clear he understood. _"When did you last see him?"_ he asked, now sounding equally as worried.

Derek could hear the sound of a cell phone being dials in the background. "He left..." he glanced over to the wall clock, "…thirty minutes ago. He was heading home to shower and talk to you."

 _"Alone?"_ The Sheriff asked distractedly.

"No, Lydia Martin was driving him back to town."

There was no answer from the Sheriff, but Derek could hear the sound of a phone ringing in the background and knew he was trying to call Stiles himself. Only there was no answer. Then there was the scrap of wood on wood. _"I'm heading over to my house. If he's not there, I'll make my way to your place."_

"Peter and Jackson are checking the road into town."

 _"If you hear from him before I get there, call me."_

"Of course." Derek replied flatly. As if he needed to be told that.

_(*-*)_/

The minutes ticked by in agonising silence. Derek sat on the cushioned kitchen chair staring at the twins, his cell moving between his palms frantically. Isaac paced in front of the large window behind the couch, attention split between Derek, the twins and the still empty front yard.

Looking at the time on his phone, Derek was surprised to see it had only been a few minutes since he'd hung up from the Sheriff and there was still no word from Peter or Jackson.

As if summoned into existence, his cell screen lit up, Peter's name flashing to life. "Peter?"

"He's taking care of Lydia." Jackson said, voice tense with jealousy but he continued talking to Derek, "We found the car just outside of town."

Derek leapt to his feet. "Stiles?"

There was a long silence, and that was all he needed for his world to crumble around him. "He's not here." Jackson confirmed.

Derek let out a sound in the back of his throat, part growl, part pained whine.

"Derek, there are track marks."

Shaking off his own pain, Derek refocused. "W-What?"

"On the road and in the dirt where the car landed. Footprints too. He was grabbed Derek, at least two people."

Frowning, Derek's head snapped to the twins, "How many of you are there?" he demanded angrily. When neither teenager made to answer, Derek took three steps forward, gripping Ethan by the throat and yanking him from his seat. Aiden attempted to attack in his brother's defence, only for Isaac to sink his claws into the omega's shoulders and force him back down. "How many?" Derek roared.

Swallowing against his palm, Ethan wheezed, "Us, Cora and one other; Alicia."

"Where are they?" he demanded, furiously.

"I don't know." Ethan choked out, eyes face turning red. "We've been _here_."

Narrowing his eyes at the omega, he bared his teeth, the sunlight gleaming off his canines. "To distract us?"

"No." Aiden argued, "We came for Cora."

"I don't believe you."

"Derek? Derek!"

With his fingers still around Ethan's neck, Derek returned the phone to his ear. "What?"

"What do you want us to do?" Jackson sounded panicked and fearful.

"Call in the accident." He realised suddenly that he didn't have the Sheriff's personal number, which meant that he'd hear about it via the police radio. Dammit.

"Okay."

Derek hung up without another word and refocused on the twin in his grasp. "Where would they take him?" he demanded.

"Who?" Aiden asked, and Derek tightened his grip on the teenager's brother. "I don't know!" he said fearfully. "Probably the same place they're holding the other two."

"Other two?" Isaac gasped, "Which other two?"

"The big guy and his mouth-piece girlfriend."

Isaac met Derek's gaze over Aiden's head. "Erica and Boyd?"

Aiden nodded and Derek bared his teeth as he demanded, "Where?"

"I don't know." Aiden said quickly, "We never went there."

"We weren't allowed." Ethan gasped weakly, "The N-Nemeton."

Derek released him, causing the teenager to collapse onto the floor at his feet. Ethan rubbed at his throat. With a nod from Derek, Isaac released his brother, and Aiden scurried off the couch to get to his twin. "You okay?" Ethan gave a nod.

Derek took a step back, mind reeling as he tried to think what to do next. The Emissary had Boyd and Erica, just as Stiles suspected, and neither of the twins were willing to give up a location. It would take time to get the information out of them, but Derek didn't have time. It wasn't just about rescuing his betas, they had Stiles too.

And there was Cora. He couldn't leave her alone in the house, neither could he leave Isaac with his sister and the twins. - But he wanted to go. Head out to the crash site and try to pick up Stiles trail.

His stomach twisted again, heart racing with fear and anger. He should have driven Stiles home himself, He scolded.

"Derek," Isaac called behind him. It was only when he turned to regard the beta that he heard his cell ringing.

"Stiles?" He said hopefully, answering the unknown number.

 _"Where is my son, Derek?"_

Closing his eyes, the Alpha turned away from the teenagers, taking a step into the kitchen, "I..." He swallowed around the lump in his throat, "I think the Emissary has him." He confessed breathlessly.

 _"What?"_ The Sheriff snapped impatiently.

"I have two of the werewolves who've been working for her, but they're not talking."

 _"What do you mean they're not talking. Bring them to the station, I'll... "_

"You'll do what?" Derek snapped, frustrated by the Sheriff's ignorance, "They're werewolves, not delinquent teenagers! You remember what happened with Isaac, and Matt?"

There was a long silence. Derek could hear the older man's heavy breathing and could easily imagine the look on his face.

 _"So what do we do?"_ The Sheriff finally gritted out.

"Make sure Lydia's alright, I'm going to call Deaton."

Another silence filled with frustration and heavy sighs. "Fine. Keep me informed." Before Derek could reply, the line went dead.

Every nerve ending was sparking to life, his flesh felt as if it were on fire. His hands were shaking as he stared down at the cell phone, unable to silence the voices in his mind screaming that this was all his fault. If only he'd kept his distance. If only he hadn't allowed Stiles to worm his way into his life. – If only he'd never fallen in love, then Stiles would be safe. Protected from the karmic curse the universe had placed on him as punishment for his sins.

* * *

 **A/N: At best there is maybe another three chapters left of this story, so be prepared.**


	18. Cold Comfort

**Cold Comfort**

"You sure this is a good idea?" Isaac asked for the fifth time since they'd left the house.

Derek's gaze drifted to the back seat where Cora's unconscious body was sandwiched between Aiden and Ethan, her head lulling to the side, resting on Aiden's shoulder. The twin's cheek pressed to her hair while his tied hands lay in his lap, gripping hers. Ethan meanwhile sat silently staring out the window, brows creased with worry.

It probably wasn't the best idea taking them to Deaton's with him, but he had little choice. The veterinarian wasn't answering his calls, which increased the nervous sense of foreboding hanging over his head. He couldn't leave them alone with Isaac, even if they were chained up, and with Jackson and Peter at the hospital with Lydia, he was backed into a corner.

It only made Stiles absence more noticeable. The teenager would have known what to do, how to handle this. Derek's chest tightened and he clenched his hands tighter around the steering wheel as they began to tremble again.

Derek's whole body felt cold, a constant vibration beneath the skin. He'd almost succumbed to a panic attack back at the house. He should probably call his therapist but he didn't have time. He needed to find Stiles before he became the next victim of the Emissary.

 _Darach_ , Stiles voice corrected. _Dark killer druid remember, and don't worry Derek, I'm not gonna be the next sacrifice. I don't fit the pattern._

Derek shook off the voice, swallowing thickly. How did he know Stiles didn't fit the pattern? They hadn't even worked out what the pattern was. _Then ask the wonder twins, dude._

Blinking, Derek looked into the rear-view mirror, brows drawn down in an angry frown. "The sacrifices?" he said, voice hard and subtly filled with warning. "Tell me about the sacrifices?" The pair looked at him, then to one another, silently conversing. _Now you know how I feel when you and the others have your super-secret wolfie conversation. Not that they were all that secret, I've got super hearing to, but you didn't know that, because I was a boring human._ "Well?" Derek snapped angrily, wishing Stiles would shut up. - No, that wasn't true. He wished Stiles was there for him to tell to shut up. It was unsettling not to have him sat in the passenger seat, sarcastically blithering on throughout the drive. It felt like Derek had lost his right arm. _Aw, that's so beautiful, you're such a sap Sourwolf._ His mind mocked warmly in Stiles voice.

Finally he got his answer, "We don't know exactly." Ethan said, clearly the less aggressive and hostile of the twins, "All we know is that it has something to do with the Nemeton."

Derek twisted his head to stare at the teenager, unconcerned with the road ahead. "I don't believe you!" he seethed.

Ethan swallowed, shifting in the seat, back straightening defensively. "It's the truth." Aiden growled, "She never told us about the magic stuff. Just that we were going to save the world."

Derek looked between them before turning back around and glaring out at the road, the town quickly coming into view. "What's the pattern?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"What?" Ethan asked, confused.

"The pattern. How is she choosing her victims?"

There was another long silence before the teenagers' sighed. "Oh." Derek looked over his shoulder again, briefly, impatient. He found the twin omegas staring out their windows and growled in the back of his throat, glancing at Isaac, who shrugged apologetically.

"Virgins." One of them muttered quietly.

Derek's chest tightened. _Shit dude, maybe we should have slid into home this morning_. Stiles voice chuckled in the back of his mind.

"Survivors." Ethan continued, "Warriors, Healers..." he looked over meeting Derek's gaze in the mirror."Werewolves."

"Three werewolves?" Isaac interrupted, voice tightening as the memory of his attempted abduction resurfaced. If it hadn't have been for the woman on the bike, "Me, Erica and Boyd." he growled furiously, twisting in his seat to fix Ethan with an angry glare.

Ethan met his gaze defensively, before his shoulders slumped and he nodded. "Jackson too. – Or Scott, if necessary." He shrugged.

"Four." Aiden added, tiredly. "Four sacrifices." he looked at Ethan then down at Cora with a sigh, his lips playing over her forehead.

Derek stiffened, frowning. He shook of the threat to his own life and focused on the sacrifices. Four sacrifices, but only three bodies? "But there were only three virgins killed."

"Because there'd already been a virgin killed at the school." Ethan informed him matter-of-factly., "Years ago."

The car swerved violently, the scream of tires echoing in the silence. Derek's heart was pounding in his chest, loud. Deafening. It felt as if there were hands around his lungs, squeezing them tight.

 _I love you._

Derek gasped, fighting to take in air, but all he could inhale was the thick scent of dirt and blood.

 _I'm gonna die, aren't I?_

Sweat coated Derek's back, causing him to shiver violently. His hands clenched against the wheel but he couldn't feel it. Instead there was the phantom touch of wet fingers, weakly embracing his own.

 _I can't take it anymore. I can't._

The car violently jerked, "Derek? Derek!"

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. Derek!"

 _Please._

He shoved at the car door but it wouldn't open. The air grew thicker and he could taste the scent of death. The odour of salty tears. The damp earth soaked with blood. The sound of pained weeping echoed in his ears, growing louder and louder by the second.

He pushed at the door again, scrambling with clawed fingers to free himself, but there was no release, no escape from the past. From the blood on his hands.

 _That's right, Derek, you can't escape it. You're a monster. You've always been a monster._

Kate's voice cut through the sound of crying to mock him, and Derek's gut twisted agonisingly, while bile filled his mouth. _You killed that girl. You killed your family._

His claws tore at the fabric on the inside of the door, blindly trying to find the handle, the car rocking as he struggled.

 _And now Stiles_. Kate scoffed, _you're cursed Derek_.

 _Please._ Paige wept, her brown eyes staring up at him, her face stained with blood and dirt. The moles on her cheeks barely visible anymore. He could feel her weight against his shoulder, her fingers clinging to his arm, her tears seeping into the front of his hoodie as he held her tight, pulling her closer and closer until…. "I'm sorry."

The glass shattered, slicing through Derek's flesh and hot fresh air flooded the car. Derek hunt his head out, gulping in much needed oxygen. Despite the bright sunlight the world around him seemed to go black, the sound dimming until all he could here was one voice.

 _I love you._ Stiles whispered.

_(*-*)_/

The dark slowly receded, leaving bright sunlight burning through the shield of Derek's eyelids. His head felt like a bowling ball stuffed with cotton. There was a high pitched ringing in his ears that made his head hurt. It had been years since he'd had a panic attack to the point of blacking out. Not since he'd started seeing his therapist. He knew he should have called her, and he would, just as soon as he found Stiles, cured Cora and stopped a murdering Emissary.

 _Stiles_. Derek's eyes flew open, unconcerned with the sunlight pouring directly into them. Stiles was missing. He'd been taken. By the Darach.

Shoving himself up into a sitting position, he scanned his surroundings as the fog slowly lifted. He was sat on the side of the road only a few feet from the gas station. In front of the Toyota, the doors wide open, glass scattering the asphalt. Empty.

Immediately Derek scrambled to his feet, shaking off the brief moment of dizziness, and rushed over to the car. Pulling the back door open wider, he looked inside. Nothing. Fear gripped him and he turned in a large circle, looking off into the woodland that flanked the road. Lifting his nose he sniffed at the air. Cora's scent lingered weakly, heading off into the woods. A stronger, closer scent had Derek running around the car. He inhaled with relief at the sight of Isaac, laying on the road, dried blood coating his face from long healed wounds. Guilt clawed at his insides while he hurried over, dropping to his knees beside his beta. He'd left him alone, unprotected, with two unknown omegas who were working for the woman who'd kidnapped his sister. Once again he was proving to be a useless, selfish Alpha. "Isaac?" he muttered, lifting the young man's head and shoulders off the ground, "Isaac!"

Isaac groaned, his eyes fluttering open to stare up at Derek. Their irises stained gold. "I tried to stop them." He said quietly, the strong odour of guilt rolling off him in thick waves, "but they…" he shook his head as if he couldn't believe what had happened, and Derek frowned.

"Are you alright?" he demanded.

"No." Isaac confessed with a groan, wincing as he struggled to sit up. "They took Cora, I'm sorry Derek. I'm sorry."

Derek lifted is free hand to reach for the teenager's neck, pressing his palm into the cold clammy skin at the nape and pulling him into a hug.

"I'm sorry." Isaac whimpered, trembling.

"It's alright." Derek reassured, shaking his head understandingly. "It's not your fault. I know you did everything you could. I'm the one who should apologize."

"But…your sister."

"We'll find her, we'll find them _all_." Derek replied determinedly. "Let's get you up."

Reluctantly Isaac nodded and struggled to his feet with the help of his Alpha. Derek helped him back to the car and into the front seat before walking back around, closing the doors on his way. Back behind the wheel, he restarted the engine.

"Are we going after them?" Isaac asked, sounding a little….scared.

Derek frowned, slightly nervous at what exactly had put Isaac so on edge. "No. They've probably covered their tracks by now. We're going to Deaton."

Isaac nodded and slouched down low in the seat, seeming to revert to his insecure ways. It twisted in Derek's gut like a knife and he gripped angrily at the wheel while pulling back into the road. He pushed at the edge of the speed limit, desperate to get to Deaton and demand answers, without getting pulled over by a deputy.

"You think they'd take her back to the Darach?" Isaac asked after a few seconds of silence.

Gritting his teeth, Derek nodded, taking the final turn that would take them directly to the clinic. "They want to save her." He grumbled, fingers tightening a once again on the wheel. "And they think the Darach is her only chance."

Isaac sighed, shifting in his seat, his cracked ribs slowly healing. "You… - You don't think she will?" he asked cautiously.

There was a long silence, Derek staring at the road ahead while his heart ached with each quickening beat. Isaac clearly heard it, because he reached out, placing his palm on Derek's shoulder. Derek turned to stare at him, heart twisting when for a brief second he saw Stiles sat beside him, offering him comfort. It felt strange to have someone else touch him after so long of it only being Stiles warm hand on his shoulder. Despite how close he'd become with Isaac over the last few months, there was still a strained distance between them. One that he'd never felt before. He wondered if it was due to Isaac being a bitten wolf, rather than one born of his own blood.

Isaac withdrew his hand almost as soon as he'd placed it there, and Derek felt a twinge of loss. He'd have to try harder to secure the bond between them. – Between _all_ of them.

"I think she needs four werewolves to complete her sacrifice." He finally answered, a shiver rippling through him. He pulled into the empty parking lot outside the clinic and cut the engine. "And I think they need to be connected to either me, or Beacon Hills."

Isaac didn't reply, staring instead out into the parking lot, brows drawn together tightly. He glanced at the clock on the dash. "2pm. This place should be busy as hell." He remarked, looking from the clock to Derek.

That foreboding sensation returned to Derek's gut and he shoved open the door. Isaac quick to follow suit. Together, they cautiously made their way into the clinic. The second Derek opened the door he smelt it, the scent of blood hanging in the air. There was the sound of a heartbeat in the back room, steady and unfamiliar. Derek nodded for Isaac to go around the back, while Derek slowly made his way through the clinic, his flesh tingling as he passed the mountain ash divide.

The examination room looked as if a bomb had hit it. The table over turned, glass from the high windows scattered on the ground, and all the supplies thrown across the room to land in messy piles. The blood he'd smelt was smeared on both the floor and the desk. Being closer to it, made it easier to identify as Deaton's, and he frowned. Why would they take Deaton if he was working with the Darach?

The sound of screaming animals in the conjoining room caught his attention and he stepped over to peer through the window, only for the door to fly open and slam into his face, hard. He stumbled back a few feet, but quickly recovered, in time to fight off an attack as a body sped towards him. Derek lashed out quickly, taking a swipe at the large man before a familiar voice echoed the room.

"Derek!"

The man attacking him drew to a halt and Derek's fist froze in mid-air as he looked over to stare with wide eyes at his ex. "Nick?"

"Hey." The man smiled awkwardly, "I guess this must belong to you." Nick grinned, gently shoving Isaac into the room.

Isaac stumbled forward and turned to glare at the newly arrived werewolf, eyes flashing gold. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded with a growl.

A low rumbling sound from beside Derek, had Isaac flinching back and turned questioning nervous eyes on Derek.

"Isaac." Derek ordered, nodding for the beta to join him, before looking at the man who'd attacked him. He looked somewhat familiar but Derek couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"Derek," Nick said warmly, stepping forward, "This is Jeremy Danvers, my Alpha."

The man, Jeremy, looked Derek up and down, before giving a subtle nod. "I'm sorry about your sister." He said roughly, "She was a good woman, and would have lived up to her mother's legacy."

Derek couldn't help but bristle at that. "You knew Laura?" he asked sharply.

"Of course. I knew your mother too."

Derek held himself firmly in place, even as inwardly he flinched at the man's tone. "What are you doing here? Where's Deaton?"

Jeremy looked over at Nick, before turning back to Derek. "The Emissary?" The older man said between gritted teeth, "I don't know. He was gone when we arrived."

Derek looked disbelievingly around the room, and all the blood.

"I swear Derek, we didn't do this. We came here for the same reason as you. Answers."

"What kind of answers?" Derek looked cautiously between the two men.

"A rogue Emissary is killing people, as I understand it?" Jeremy said, folding his arms over his chest. "But she's also wiped out three of their packs."

"Whose packs?" Isaac frowned, looking confused.

"The Emissaries packs. We have no idea whose side she's actually on, and that's making us nervous." Nick replied, his arms folded as he lounged casually against a counter.

Derek frowned, just as confused as Isaac. He looked between the two men. "I don't understand. The Emissaries are our protectors, our guardians."

Nick scoffed, shaking his head. "That's what they want us to believe. They've been manipulating us all for generations."

"They want to use us." Jeremy added sternly. "We're little more than attack dogs to them. They originate from Europe, then a hundred and fifty years ago, a few of their people rebelled, sailed out here to America and began to build a defence against them. A few of the Native families joined with them, but they soon followed, bring their own packs. Some of the American packs were infiltrated by them, through marriages or breeding, but some… like ours, resisted."

"But Deaton?" Derek frowned.

Jeremy shook his head regretfully. "His father abandoned the Emissaries along with your grandfather, and they came to Beacon Hills looking for sanctuary with your pack. He was raised with your mother and father. She thought he could be trusted, clearly she was wrong." He sighed, "Jealousy can bring out the worst in us."

"Wait, my grandfather was an emissary?" Derek inhaled sharply, shaking his head. When Jeremy nodded, Derek took an unsteady step back, leaning heavily on the counter behind him. "So...Peter was right. Deaton sold us out to the Argents."

"It's more complicated than that. The Argents are… - Hunters are a weapon to the Emissaries. They manipulate them to take out packs that cause them trouble. The Argents are one of the few packs that lived by a code." Derek scoffed. "Historically at least," Jeremy corrected, "I don't know what happened, but they somehow turned the Argents against the Hales. - As for Deaton. I don't know how long he's been back under the control of the Emissaries, all I know is that he lured Laura back here with the promise of information. He said he'd located the Nemeton."

"The what?" Isaac frowned.

"The Nemeton. It's a sacred tree. The Emissaries believe it holds the spirit of their goddess who will be released and bring about the end of the world. The men that left the Emissaries stole it and brought it here. In hopes that she could never be released. The buried it in Beacon Hills."

"Where?" Derek demanded, taking an agitated step forward. "Wherever the Nemeton is, the Darach must be close."

"Darach?" Nick frowned, looking over to Jeremy then back to Derek.

"It's what Cora called her."

"Cora?" Jeremy and Nick said in unison. "Your sister?" Nick gaped, "I thought...?"

"No, this Darach, Emissary, whatever you want to call her, took her. I don't know how or why, but she has Cora, and members of my pack, _and_ my boyfriend." Derek said in a rush of words, his voice straining as he tried to keep from losing control. "We need to find the tree!"

There was a long awkward moment of silence before Jeremy said, "I'm not sure we can find the tree." He sighed, meeting Derek's hard frustrated gaze.

"Why?"

"Because it's invisible. There's no way to locate it, at least in this realm. It's protected by strong magic and apparently, guarded by the dead."

"There has to be a way!" Derek shouted.

Jeremy physically bristled at the angry red-eyes of Derek, but stopped himself from reacting, instead, he looked over to Nick and nodded. "Call Elena."

Nick nodded and pushed himself off the bench, heading for the door.

"Who?" Isaac asked, watching the man leave.

"A member of my pack. Her mother was an Emissary, she fled them when Elena was born." He replied harshly. "She'll know what to do."

They stood awkwardly, waiting for Nick to return.

"If Deaton is one of the bad guys." Isaac whispered, leaning into Derek. "What does he want with Scott?"

"Scott?" Jeremy frowned, looking between them curiously.

"An omega." Derek said tightly, before sighing. "He's under the protection of my pack. Whether he likes it or not."

Jeremy stared at him for a long moment, then turned away without comment. Looking back to Isaac, Derek shook his head. "I don't know, but it's not good."

Isaac shuffled his feet while staring at them, thick wave of anxiety rolling off of him. Reaching out, Derek squeezed at his shoulder, "Go call him. Make sure he's alright. Warn him about the twins."

"And Deaton?" Isaac asked, looking up.

"You can try, but I doubt he'll listen." Derek sighed wearily.

Isaac nodded sadly and headed for the door, his hand already rifling in his pocket for his cell.

"Is he alright?" Jeremy asked once Isaac was out of the clinic.

"He's fine." Derek replied defensively.

They fell back into an uncomfortable silence, Jeremy rifling through Deaton's papers while Derek fussed around one the other side of the room, trying to look as confident in his status as he could.

While he hadn't met Jeremy Danvers personally, he'd heard enough about him from Nick and Clay. Both had an enormous amount of respect for the man, especially Clay. Jeremy had taken him in as a feral child after being abandoned by his pack. No-one knew why, or at least Clay had never told Derek. His friend wasn't the only abandoned werewolf the Alpha had taken in. Clay had mentioned two others, neither of which Derek had met. He supposed one of them must be this Elena woman.

Jeremy may be welcoming, taking in strays that need him, but the Alpha was also strict. He had rules and lord help anyone who crossed him. He was just as willing to throw someone out of his pack as welcome them in, and it made him a formidable Alpha.

"My mom never mentioned you." Derek found himself saying. He turned to see Jeremy staring at him.

The other Alpha nodded, "Is there any reason why she should?" He frowned. "You were never in line to be Alpha so there was no reason for you to know about me."

"But you knew Laura?"

Jeremy looked at him in a way that made Derek feel like he was five years old again, asking his mother all those ridiculous things about the world. Why is the sky blue? How do birds fly? Why isn't Conner a werewolf too? "She's the...was the Alpha."

Derek dropped his gaze, trying not to chew on the inside of his lip. He didn't think he'd felt so intimidated before in his life, and it was making him want to run away home and hide beneath his bed.

 _What happened to, I'm the Alpha. Come on, dude, don't let this guy get to you._ Stiles scolded in his head, but all it managed to do was make Derek wish even harder that he was there. Defusing the tension with his sarcasm.

"Derek!" Panted Isaac, rushing back into the room.

The Alpha's spider senses pricked at the panic rolling off his beta, "What?"

Isaac gulped in breath and shook his head, "There was no answer so I tried the hospital. Melissa didn't turn up for her shift this morning."

"Shit." Derek growled, fishing into his pocket for his cell, just as Nick strolled back into the room. Lifting the phone to his ear, he only had to wait a few seconds before Peter answered.

 _"Yes?"_

"I need you and Jackson to go to Scott's house and check on him."

 _"What? Why?"_

"Because I said so. - If they're there, bring them to Deaton's clinic, whether Scott wants to come or not."

 _"What about Lydia?"_

Derek gritted his teeth, pressing his fingertips into his eyes. "Is she alright?"

 _"She's unconscious."_ Peter informed him, voice strained. _"Her parents and Jackson are in with her."_ The bitterness was clear in his tone.

"I'm sorry." Derek sighed, sympathetically.

 _"Can't you just get the Sheriff to check on Scott and Melissa? When she wakes up, she might be able to tell us who took Stiles."_

"No." Derek growled, "If there's trouble, I don't want the Sheriff or any of his deputies getting caught in the crossfire. Stiles would never…." He cleared his throat.

 _"Fine."_ Peter sighed down the line. _"I'll grab Jackson and head over there."_

The older man grunted before hanging up without another word. Derek closed his eyes, as he lowered the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

"What did Elena say?" Jeremy asked from behind him and Derek turned, pushing the added worries to the back of his mind.

"Nothing good." Nick responded. "There might be a way to visit." He said with quotation marks, "the tree, but it would be dangerous."

"What is it?" Derek demanded, his arms folded over his chest.

"Apparently, someone would have to take a walk into the veil. The realm between our world and the next. That's where the tree is hidden apparently."

"What's the catch?" Isaac asked nervously.

Nick met his gaze, the corner of his lips turned up in that way that had first attracted Derek to him. "Well firstly, whoever goes might not make it back, and if they do, they could bring something back with them. – Secondly, whoever goes needs a guide, someone connected to the veil."

"Such as?" Derek pressed, frowning.

"Ideally, a Banshee."

Derek looked over at Isaac when he gasped out a surprised noise. "Well, we have a problem, our Banshee is currently in hospital unconscious." He turned back to Jeremy and Nick. "Is there another way?"

Nick shrugged, pulling out his phone and shooting off a text. It felt like forever before a reply came. "Well, that's helpful." He mocked, shaking his head.

"What?"

"She said no, unless we happen to have a zombie laying around."

"A zombie?" Derek huffed, looking between an amused Nick and a frustrated Jeremy.

"Living dead. Someone who's already been to the veil." Jeremy clarified.

Derek and Isaac shared a look, before Derek turned back to Nick. "What do we need?"

_(*-*)_/

Peter and Derek arrived just as Isaac and Nick were filling the tin bathtubs with ice and herbs, Derek was stood stripped down to just his jeans. Looking up as the pair entered, Derek stiffened, eyes widening with surprise at the man behind them.

"Sheriff?"

The older man looked around the room, eyes fixing on Jeremy and Nick. "Derek." He greeted, his hand on his belt. "Who are your friends?"

Inhaling slowly, Derek stepped over to Stiles father. "Why are you here?"

The Sheriff tore his eyes away from the strangers to lock them with Derek instead. "My son is missing, Scott and Melissa are missing. Where else would I be right now?"

"He was sniffing around the McCall house when we arrived." Peter smirked, leaning on the doorframe, his eyes fixed on the strangers.

"Did you find anything?" Derek asked, looking between them all?"

"Nothing out of place." Jackson shrugged, glancing over to the tubs and Isaac. "Scott's bed looked like it hadn't been slept in, but he could have just made it this morning."

"Scott never makes his bed." Isaac informed them, dropping the empty bag and reaching for more ice.

"Your friends?" The Sheriff pressed, his gaze flickering back to the visitors.

Derek exhaled a long breath and gave a sharp nod. "Sheriff, this is Jeremy Danvers and Nick Sorrentino, they're friends from New York."

"And why are they here? Now?" John asked suspiciously, looking between the pair.

"Your Sheriff knows?" Jeremy said, more of a statement than a question. And going by his tone, he wasn't impressed.

"Yes." Derek answered harshly, tired of feeling inferior to this newly arrived Alpha. "He's my boyfriend's father, and a trusted ally."

"Your boyfriend is human then?" Jeremy asked, his tone eerily distant.

"Is that a problem?" The Sheriff snapped, looking the man dead in the eye.

Jeremy shook his head after a tense stand-off. "No."

"Good, because if you have an issue working with non-werewolves, you might want to leave." The Sheriff stated firmly, his body tense and ready for a fight.

"We came to help, Sheriff." Jeremy said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched, a tight smile stretching across his face. "We're just naturally cautious."

John looked at that hand for a long few seconds, scrutinising it, before finally taking it in a firm grip.

"What's going on here?" Peter asked from the doorway, Jackson moving stealthily over to where Isaac was continuing to fill the bath.

"We might have a way to find the Emissary. Take your shoes and socks off." Derek ordered.

"Excuse me?" Peter sputtered, eyes wide.

"You heard me. I need a guide. Someone who has already been to the veil. That's you."

Peter looked between all the men gathered, "I don't think so."

Taking a step forward, Derek fixed his uncle with a hard stare, his irises flashing red. "It wasn't a request, Peter. – It's you or Lydia."

Peter stiffened, his back instantly going ramrod straight. Breathing heavily, he narrowed his eyes at the Alpha while toeing off his shoes. Derek gave him a nod before turning back to Jeremy and Nick.

Pulling out his cell once more, Nick called home. "We're ready."

" _Okay. Usually, you'd need something to link you to the person you're looking for."_ Said a voice on the other end of the line, _"A trinket that meant something to the person, but as you're looking for pack members, the bond between Alpha and betas should be strong enough. – Now, you need to get into the tub, then a pack member holds you down until you're essentially…well, dead."_

"Great." Peter muttered, walking reluctantly over to the metal tub and carefully stepping into the ice cold water.

" _The person holding you down will act as an anchor to this world, and will be able to pull you back if necessary. So ideally it needs to be a pack member you have the strongest bond with."_

Derek looked over to Isaac, nodding him over and after a moment, the teenager moved over to the tub, taking position at the top.

"What if I don't have that?" Peter asked, shooting Jackson an irritated look.

There was a long moment of silence, before Elena spoke again. _"Is there someone who can anchor you?"_

"She's…unavailable." He muttered in reply.

Another moment of silence.

" _Do you have something that belongs to her?"_

Peter gritted his teeth angrily, frustration burning at his throat. If Derek had warned him about this, he could have gone back to his house and found something, but… "No."

"Here."

Looking up, Peter watched as Jackson pulled his wallet out of his pocket, opening it and retrieving a small piece of paper, holding it out to Peter. It was a black and white photo, obviously taken at a photo-booth. On the back was a lock of Lydia's hair. Peter's heart clenched painfully, a wave of jealousy rolling through him. Looking up at Jackson, Peter gave him a grateful nod.

"Okay." Derek sighed, settling back into the ice water while Jackson positioned himself behind Peter's tub. "We're ready."

" _Okay. Focus on your pack members, the veil will show you what you need to know. Whatever you do, stay on the path. Don't wander off into the darkness or you might never make it back."_

Derek glanced over at Peter. "I'm sorry." He whispered, "There's no other option."

Peter glowered at him for a second before exhaling, his fingertips playing absently with the small photograph, then he nodded. "Let's do this." He said, taking a deep breath and slipping down beneath the ice water.

Derek looked over to the Sheriff. "I'll find him." He said, then followed Peter into the unknown.

* * *

 **A/N: I know I said I wasn't going to use Bitten, but it kind of just happened. Though it's Bitten (Freeform), as the shows mythology doesn't quite mesh with the Teen Wolf mythos. Plus, you know, who doesn't love an awkward meeting with an ex in a time of trouble. Lol. I'm a sucker for drama. Anyway, there's only two more chapters left of this fic, so be prepared.**


	19. Borrowed Time

**A/N: Trigger Warning for minor character death in traumatic circumstances. I don't want to go into more details due to it possibly ruining a plot twist. That said, there are more details if needed in the end notes, however my author's notes will contain spoilers for the chapter.**

* * *

 **Borrowed Time**

When Derek broke free of the water, he gasped in a lungful of air and blinked cold droplets out of his eyes to look around. He found himself in a large white room. A gasp from his left drew his attention and he watched as Peter surfaced, despite going under before him. Taking a few seconds to regain his composure, Derek finally began to lift himself out of the tub.

His foot hit solid ground, almost tile like on his bare foot, but there was no sense of feeling, almost as if his feet had fallen asleep. It was disorienting and he stared down at them for a few seconds, wiggling his toes.

The sound of spilling water, had him looking over again, to see Peter following suit. The same confusion passing over his uncle's features as he set his bare foot on the white ground. Looking up, Peter also scanned the endlessly white room before meeting Derek's gaze. "Where the hell are we?"

"I don't know." Derek replied, looking around himself while turning in a large circle as if that would reveal something. When he was finally back where he started, he caught sight of a small pinprick off in the distance. "There." he pointed, taking a step forward.

The second his foot touched down, he felt damp warm earth. Instantly he dropped his gaze to watch as dirt pushed up between his toes. He clenched them and felt it mulch. As he continued to stare, a golden light drifted between his legs, curling around his ankles for a moment before stretching out before him. Following it, Derek frowned. Around him the white walls faded away, slowly becoming dark.

 _Whatever you do, stay on the path. Don't wander off into the darkness or you might never make it back._

He turned to look for Peter, but only found more darkness, the golden trail glittering off into the far distance. Turning back around, he found it there too, and to his right. Stretching out like veins, and at its center, a large tree. Stretching up into the endless sky, as if trying to touch the heavens. Its branches bare but for the shimmering golden mist.

Looking back over his shoulder, Derek squinted into the dark, "Peter!" he called, his voice echoing back at him.

Beneath him the earth seemed to rumble and all around him trees began to shoot up from the earth, caging him in. He looked back to the large tree, he could only imagine was the Nemeton, only to find his view of it obscured by a thick dark forest.

"Peter!" He yelled again, turning in another wide circle.

 _"Peter!"_ the name came back at him on the wind. It echoed back again and again, each time growing softer and more familiar than before, and his heart began to race. _"Peter?"_

"Laura?" Derek muttered, moving forward to meet his dead sister as she appeared between the trees, only for her to pass straight through him. His throat tightened and he turned to watch her walking hurriedly over to their uncle, stood a few feet away, bathed in moonlight and clothed in unfamiliar clothes.

Derek's stomach clenched at the realisation of where he was. _When_ he was.

"Peter, there you are. Are you alright?" Laura said, reaching out for her uncle's shoulder.

"Laura!" Derek yelled, already knowing what was about to happen. He tried to rush forward, to safe his sister. Protect her, only he couldn't move. His feet were frozen in place.

Looking down, he saw thin vines of shimmering golden mist encircling his ankles. His stomach dropped as his head snapped up, rising just in time to see Peter lash out with teeth and claws. He tried to look away but found he couldn't. His eyes locking with those of Laura as she crumpled to the ground while Peter brutally slashed at her body.

It seemed to happen in slow motion, his sister's screams echoing around him, growing louder with each passing second. When it was finally over, Laura lay broken on the ground, a feral Peter crouched over her, blood covering his clothes and hands, the full moon glistening off blood coated teeth. A set of bright red eyes pierced through the darkness.

The sound of approaching footsteps had Derek turning. From between two trees, emerged a woman, the moonlight highlighting the white of her clothes. The closer she came, the more Derek was able to recognise her as Peter's old nurse.

She made her way over to Peter, a cold satisfied smile on her lips. "Excellent." she praised, "Now let's get you back to your room, you need to rest."

Peter got to his feet, back straight and proud. "Pack." he said around his extended teeth, voice wet from Laura's blood.

The woman lowered her gaze in a show of submission, though nothing else in her posture said she was giving into his dominance. "Soon, Alpha." she said plainly, looking up through her lashes. "Rest first, then you can begin to build a pack."

"Derek."

"Soon. We'll bring him home soon." The woman soothed, her hand stroking at his cheek.

Peter looked ready to argue, only to be silenced by the woman's hand on his neck as she stepped up to him. Looking down at her, Peter's hand reached for her throat, gripping it tight. She didn't struggle, instead meeting his threatening gaze with icy determination, before pulling him down into a rough kiss.

Derek turned away finally, his eyes finding his uncle, who stood behind him, visibly shaken. The scent of blood caught Derek's senses and he frowned, looking to Peter's hand. The ex-Alpha's blood dripping from between his clenched fingers as he too watched the vision of his past.

Despite the cold fury curling around his heart, Derek closed the gap between them and his uncle took a cautious step backwards. "Peter?" he asked, trying to gentle his voice, fighting to conceal the disgust and loathing. "Peter!"

"I... I wasn't myself." Peter muttered, shaking his head vigorously. "I was... I didn't..."

"It's alright Peter." Derek lied. It would never be alright, and they both knew it.

"Let's go, Peter." The nurse announced breathlessly behind them.

Looking back over his shoulder, Derek watched the pair vanish into the darkness, leaving him alone with his uncle, and Laura's body. Inhaling deeply, he moved towards it. Suddenly realising that he was no longer being held prisoner by the magic vines.

Stopping beside his sister, he crouched down, eyes scanning her body against his own better judgement. He remembered locating her, left in a pile of leaves, forgotten. He frowned suddenly. Laura's body had been torn in two and naked, yet here she lay, battered and bloody, ripped but still in one piece. Her clothes covering her body. - Mostly. He turned to Peter. "Did you return to bury her?" he demanded. Peter shook his head. "Did she?" Derek jerked his head in the direction Peter's past-self had gone with the nurse.

This time Peter shrugged, his focus turned towards the woods. Derek followed his line of sight, listening intently. In the silence he caught the sound of more movement among the trees and got to his feet, body crouching low, and ready to fight.

Moments later, three men stepped through the woods, clothed in black. _Hunters?_ He wondered. They walked over to Laura, and Derek growled, flashing his eyes at the three strangers, but they looked right through him.

Getting to his feet, Derek stepped aside, watching as the small group surrounded his sister's body.

Peter moved over to his side and they watched as the men began to strip Laura of her clothes. Derek staring furiously, his fingers clenched at his sides, desperate to attack, to stop them from dishonouring his sister.

With Laura's naked body stretched out in front of them, the men stepped away, hovering around as if uncertain how to proceed. They spoke in hushed voices in a language he couldn't understand, nor did he recognise it.

Beneath his feet he felt the earth tremble and the golden mist that had held Derek captive floated across the ground, before blanketing Laura's body. Derek had no idea how long it lay there, cocooning his sister, before it slipped away, rippling off past him.

It floated over to the still shimmering root, where it blended, causing it to pulse almost violently.

"Is that the path?" Peter asked, staring after the wave of magic as it stretched off into the horizon. "Maybe we should follow it."

Derek shook his head, turning back to Laura. The sound of yet more approaching footsteps caught their attention and they both straightened instinctively when the nurse reappeared. She waltzed straight over to the men, as if nothing had occurred, greeting them with a solemn nod.

"Fe'nos tol." the men said in greeting, and the nurse replied in kind before looking down at the body.

"The Banshee?" she asked, voice commanding, while she scanned Laura's prone corpse.

Derek frowned at her question, glancing over to Peter.

"We have her, but she refuses to tell us where the Nemeton is?"

The nurse sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. "I didn't expect any different from her. – Sandeman?"

Derek's stomach clenched at the name, his brows drawing tighter together, heart racing. Surely it wasn't the same man Stiles had told him about? It had to just be a coincidence.

"He got away." The short of the three men said, lowering his head guiltily.

The nurse lifted her gaze to stare at him. "Does he know we have his sons?" The three men nodded, "Then he'll come to us."

She looked back down at the body.

"What about the Banshee?" One of the men asked nervously.

"Kill her. - Luckily, she foolishly left her granddaughter unprotected." She shook her head, smirking. "As soon as I have Peter completely under my control, I'll send him after the Banshee. Then everything will be ready. - Now, help me get rid of this body."

"Why don't we just…?"

She looked at the shorter man, while stepping around to stand at Laura's feet, "Because, as it stands," she looked down at the body, "It looks like nothing more than an animal attack. - Peter needs his revenge, or he'll never be under our control, which means luring the hunters back to town. – And Derek."

Derek's head snapped around to stare at Peter, eyes wide with shock. "You wanted me…dead?"

Peter shook his head, "I…" He inhaled deeply, "I wanted you in my pack. I wanted my family back."

"Then why not just call them?" The inquisitive man asked, just as Derek opened his mouth to ask the same question.

The nurse glared at him, clearly tired of the questions. She ignored him and focused on her task, watching as the tallest of the three men moved to take a position at Laura's head. Reaching down he slipped his hands under her arms and the nurse reached for Laura's legs, lifting her as if she weight nothing, then shifted forward to step between them and gripped her hips.

Derek's stomach twisted in anticipation, dread curling around his heart, and he turned away. The wet sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone echoed in the darkness, tears rolled down his cheeks and he shifted, claws biting hard and bloody into his palms. The air was stale with the scent of blood.

There was no sign of Laura's scent, and when Derek finally gained the courage to look, he found nothing. They were gone. Laura, Peter's nurse, the strange men. It was as if they'd never been there. Derek looked over to Peter, seeing that he too had his back turned to the scene, his hands equally bloody.

"Peter?"

Both men turned at the sound of another familiar female voice, their stomachs dropping as Laura stepped out of the woods looking worried and fearful. Peter groaned agonisingly as the past began to replay itself all over again.

"I can't do this again." Peter growled, turning furiously away from the scene and marching back the way he came.

Derek hurried after him, surprised to be able to move this time. "We need to find Cora, Boyd and Erica." He stated, catching up to the older man. "She said we need to keep focused on them."

"She also said to avoid the darkness, and yet." Peter grunted, waving his hand at the surroundings. "We're lost, Derek."

Fixing his gaze on his uncle, Derek huffed out a frustrated noise. "You're the guide, don't you know how to find your way back to the path?"

Peter looked up at him with raised mocking brows and a smirk. "Last time I was here, I wasn't exactly paying attention. All I remember is…" he shook his head, turning to stare out across the dark woodland. "A white mist and the sound of a woman's voice." He said quietly, breathing heavily as he spoke. "It was as if I was being held captive. Unable to move forward. – And then I was being dragged back. Back into the world and…" he shrugged, gesturing with his hands, "Here I am. – Or there I was, before you forced me back into this place."

"A woman's voice?" Derek frowned. "Who?"

Shaking his head, Peter met his curious gaze and shrugged. "I… I'm not sure. It was… It was strange, as if it were one voice and a thousand all at the same time." He sighed, looking away. "I… I think one of them was Lydia."

"You called?"

Derek and Peter turned sharply, eyes widening as they stared at the young woman. "Lydia?" they gasped in unison, both averting their gazes.

Lifting a confused brow, Lydia looked between them before down at herself. Instantly she brought both her arms up to cover her exposed flesh. "Oh for Christ sake, not again." She grumbled bitterly.

Without looking at her, Peter dragged off his T-shirt and carried it over. Lydia took it gratefully and hurriedly slipped it over her head, gripping the hem that barely covered her lower half. Stretching and holding it in place. "Thank you." She said softly, smiling up at the older man.

"You're welcome." He replied, smiling back at her.

They stared at one another until Derek cleared his throat, lifting his eyes to meet the teenager's. "What are you doing here, Lydia?" he asked.

Tearing her gaze from Peter's, she shrugged. "Hell if I know." She grumbled. "Last thing I remember I was heading back to town with Stiles when we got side-swiped by this black van.

Derek stepped forward eagerly. "A black van? Did you see who was driving? What happened?"

Lydia looked up at him with knitted brows, shaking her head. "I don't know. I didn't see much more than gravel and glass."

Taking another desperate step, Derek reached for Lydia, only for Peter to grab his wrist hard, forcing himself between them. "She said she doesn't remember." He warned protectively.

Derek growled, green eyes bleeding red for a second, but Peter would not be cowed. He fixed his feet and met the Alpha's gaze, fighting the instinct to submit.

"What's going on?" Lydia demanded angrily over Peter's shoulder.

"Stiles is missing." Derek replied flatly, never breaking eye contact with Peter.

"What?" Lydia gasped, "Will you two stop." She added, shoving Peter aside and moving up closer to Derek. "What happened to Stiles?"

Shaking his head, Derek replied, "We think the Darach has him."

Lydia stared thoughtfully off into the distance, trying to recall what happened at the accident.

"We're here to find the Nemeton. It will lead us to the Darach and the others." Derek informed her breathlessly, "What are _you_ doing here?" he frowned, as if the question had only just occurred to him.

"She's a banshee." Peter reminded him, rolling his eyes.

While Derek shot his uncle an irritated glare and prepared to reply, Lydia began to walk away. Exchanging looks, the pair followed after her, hurrying up to her sides. "Lydia?" Peter asked, but she didn't answer.

The darkness of the woods slowly gave way to the bright familiar corridors of Beacon Hills Hospital. Derek frowned, looking around cautiously. After a few seconds of passing empty rooms, Lydia came to a halt, staring at the only closed door on the corridor. Peter looked from Lydia to Derek, then back again. Stepping forward, Lydia melted into the door. It took a few seconds before the werewolves attempted to follow.

When they entered the room, Lydia was stood at the end of a bed, staring down at herself. Stepping up to her side, Peter reached for her hand, while Derek, unsure what to do with his own hands, slipped them into the pockets of his jeans.

"Lydia?" Peter whispered, but once again the young woman remained silent, her eyes locked on her own unconscious body.

The sound of a door opening had both werewolves turning to watch the familiar form of Deaton slipping inside. He was carrying his medical bag, and after closing the door quietly, he stepped over to the side of the bed, looking down at Lydia with barely a flicker of emotion. Setting the bag on the small rolling table, he opened it and removed a jar.

Twisting the lid off, he set it aside and pulled back the covers. Baring Lydia's side and pulling off the dressing, he turned to the jar. He worked with blank determination.

They watched in utter silence, barely even breathing, while Deaton rubbed the powder into the wound. Derek caught the faint tang of mountain ash and something familiar that he couldn't quite place. Then Deaton started to mutter under his breath, but Derek and Peter could hear what was being said, though they couldn't understand it.

Deaton was speaking in the same foreign language as the men in the woods, and it send a wave of anger and fear through Derek.

"What is he doing?" Peter seethed, his fingers tightening around Lydia's. He took a step closer, eyes flashing blue, but felt Lydia pull him back. Turning to look at the young woman, Peter frowned. "Lydia?"

She swallowed, her body trembling, tears pooling in her eyes. "He…he did it. He…" she choked off and Peter stepped back to her side, sliding his arm protectively around her, pulling her into his chest as she cried. He stroked at her hair and glared over murderously at the veterinarian.

Derek watched them with a twinge of envy, and the overpowering need to have Stiles home.

Almost in an instant, the room around them was dark and it took a few seconds for Derek's gaze to adjust again. The floor beneath him shifted in a familiar rhythmic motion. Blinking Derek realised he was in a van, and his breath caught.

Turning away from the blacked out windows, his heart leapt into his throat. There was a figure on the floor, curled up in a ball, rocking with the movement of the vehicle. On either side of it, sat on slim benches sat two more figures, dressed completely in black, but for their exposed faces. Derek looked between them, burning their faces to his memory, as he moved over to the lump on the floor.

He didn't need to get closer to identify who it was, it was perfectly obvious from the familiar the scent, but he needed to be sure. Clinging to hope, that was soon shattered when he saw the cut and blooded face of Stiles.

Tears swelled in his eyes as he dropped into a crouch next to him, reaching out, only to have his hands slip through Stiles like they were passing through fog. A lump rose up in his throat and he let out a loud growled, that no one reacted too.

Glancing over at the guard, Derek realised with a painful twist to his insides, that Stiles hadn't been taken by the Darach, as they'd believed, but rather by Manticore. They'd been too lax, he scolded himself. They'd known Manticore were sniffing around town, but they'd been so preoccupied with the Darach that they'd let their guard down. – That _he'd_ let his guard down. He should have protected Stiles. Should have kept a closer eye on him.

He should have tried to find the woman on the bike, but he'd failed Stiles. Failed the man he loved, just as he'd failed to protect Paige all those years ago. "I'm sorry." He whispered brokenly, closing his eyes and fighting back tears. "I…"

" _I'm sorry."_

Derek opened his eyes and found himself suddenly unable to breathe, his heart pounding even harder against his ribs. He looked around, whole body shaking. Gone was the van, replace instead with damp stone.

The air was stale with blood and earth. Thick ancient tree roots cut across the floor, while vines climbed the walls, hanging from the ceiling, and encircling the large triskelion carved into the stone above where his past-self sat huddled together with Paige, her limp body cradled in his arms. Their fingers knotted together between them as her life slowly slipped away.

Derek's breath caught as he stared at the vision of his past, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He took an unsteady step back, desperate to escape his first sin. Paige opened her lips to speak but Derek didn't want to hear it. He didn't need to hear it, he remember it all so clear now.

"I'm sorry." His teenage-self whispered once more, voice breathless from trying to ease her pain.

"I knew." She replied weakly, meeting his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen things in this town. Things no one really could explain. – And then…" she panted, wincing as she moved ever so subtly. "There's the way that you talk. You say things like you'd caught a scent, or heard something no one else can. I knew." Paige whimpered and Derek couldn't take it, turning away from them.

He startled when he found Peter and Lydia stood there, watching him with sorrowful looks on their faces. Peter looked past him with sadness and sympathy in his cool blue eyes, his free hand blindingly reaching out to squeeze reassuringly at the Alpha's shoulder.

"I knew." Paige repeated behind them. "And I love you anyway. I _love_ you." She let out an agonising groan and Derek closed his eyes tight, wishing he could run but there was nowhere to run to. Paige cried for a short while and Derek felt the phantom weight of her body in his arms, the smell of her weakening scent in his nostrils.

"She…she said…" Paige panted. "If I were one too, we could…be together forever. We wouldn't need to…hide."

Derek's stomach cramped and he clenched his fists at his sides, till fresh blood began to paint the earthen ground.

"She?" His younger-self asked at the same moment as Lydia and Peter.

"Emily." Paige panted, blinking back tears, "She's one of you." Her body crumbled in on itself once more as a fresh wave of pain ripped through her, slowly tearing itself apart from the inside.

Sensing their eyes on him, Derek opened his own and met their confused gaze, swallowing thickly as he replied in a harsh shaky voice. "Kate."

Peter inhaled sharply. "Are you sure?"

"It's what she called herself when she met Harris and the drunks she convinced to…. – Besides, she…told me so herself." He muttered, turning his head just a little, torn between looking over his shoulder at the first person he ever loved, and not.

When Paige's whimpering stopped and the room fell eerily silent, only then did he finally turn, weeping along with his past-self.

Lydia stepped up to him without a word, wrapping him in a comforting hug that did little to actually ease the pain, but he was grateful for her presence. She didn't bother with platitudes or whispered words of comfort, she simply held him and let him find his own way back from the darkness.

When he was done grieving, Derek straightened, scrubbing angrily at his face and cleared his throat. "Thank you." He choked out with a grateful nod.

"You're welcome. – It's what Stiles would want me to do." She smiled regretfully up at him.

Looking over her shoulder, Derek frowned as he noticed that Peter was staring past him. Turning, his eyes widened as he saw the now recognizable golden mist leaking out of the ancient roots to swirl around Paige's body, just as it had done with Laura. It curled its way between his past-self and Paige, encasing her.

Moments later, the earth shook and the root around them began to glow.

"What's happening?" Lydia asked, stepping closer to Peter and reaching for his arm.

Both men shook their head, staring at the mist. Waiting for it to slip away back to the roots.

"It happened with Laura too." Peter whispered, his voice heavy.

"The Nemeton." Derek said confidently. "It has to be."

Turning back to look at his uncle, Derek frowned, staring past the other man. Beyond his uncle's shoulder was a road. Turning fully, Derek walked over, eyes scanning the dark. Off to their right was the distance lights of Beacon Hills, bright in the darkness, to their left, the county highway. A set of lights heading towards them. Derek glanced up at the sky, noting the full moon, before the sound of tires yanked his attention back to the road.

As they stood there, another set of lights appeared from behind, moving closer and closer. Derek frowned, watching in bewilderment as the second set moved up to the side of the car. With his enhanced vision, Derek could make out the differences in the vehicles. One a small battered up WV Beatle, the other a large SUV.

He wasn't sure why they were there, but he felt his heart racing, horrified as the sound of screeching tires and crashing metal filled the air. Watching with wide eyes as the SUV slammed into the side of the car, driving it off the road and straight into nearby tree.

A woman's scream was cut off by the sound of shattering glass, then the screech of tires as the SUV pulled to a stop a little way off. Its rear lights bright in the darkness. For half a second Derek thought the driver was going to get out and check on the car, but then the SUV hit reverse, spun around and sped away. Leaving the Beatle a smoking wreck.

Without really thinking about it, driven by his instincts, Derek hurried across the road towards the crash. He peered through the passenger side window to find a young woman, alone and trapped behind the steering wheel. There was the heady scent of blood, mingling with that of the gasoline, and the sound of weak heartbeats. – _Three_. That's when Derek fully took in that the young woman was pregnant, her extended stomach pressed against the wheel.

Straightening, Derek hurried around the car and reached for the door, only for his hand to once again pass through it. He growled in frustration. Blood was seeping from her temple and there was glass embedded in her face. "It's alright." Derek whispered, not caring if she could hear him or not.

The sound of an approaching car had the Alpha turning, staring into the darkness as a car headed their way from the town. He hurried back to the road and attempted to flag it down,

"They can't see you." Lydia reminded him in a sad sigh.

Turning to look at her, Derek found his gaze drawn to Peter. His uncle stood there, pale in the moonlight, visibly shaking as he stared at the wreckage with watery eyes. "Peter?" Derek asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"

Peter didn't say anything. Lydia turned to look at him, looking equally as worried suddenly, her hand reaching out to touch the man's shoulder. The second she did, she yanked it back as if burnt, her head snapping around to stare at the car, tears rolling down her cheeks unbidden. "Oh god. I…" she looked back to Peter once more, "I'm sorry." She whispered, reaching out to touch him again, pulling back at the last second, nervous to make contact a second time.

"What? What's wrong?" Derek asked, frowning as he looked between the pair. Behind him a car pulled to a stop and he heard a door open. He didn't turn to look until Lydia gasped, looking past him. "Lydia?"

She didn't reply, instead stepping away from a still frozen Peter and past Derek. Turning Derek followed her, around the car where a slightly familiar looking woman stood beside the crumbled door.

"Mrs. Whittemore?" Lydia frowned.

"What's your name?" Mrs. Whittemore asked, leaning through the window.

The voice inside was weak and broken, filled with tears. "Sa-save my b-babies." She pleaded weakly. " _Please_."

Mrs. Whittemore looked at the woman, "Okay, just… I'll be right back." She hurried away, back over to her car. Derek watched her over the roof of the Ford, listening as she dialled 911 and told them about the wreck." They were on the other side of town, it would take them at least twenty minutes to get there, Derek knew.

Hanging up the call, Mrs. Whittemore hurried back to the car, just as the young woman inside let out a desperate cry. "Peter!" she screamed, the name seeming to echo around them. Derek looked over to his uncle, brows furrowed.

Peter stared back at him, shaking his head, even as his feet carried him closer.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Mrs. Whittemore asked gently. "Who's Peter?"

The young woman panted, tears rolling down her face, mixing with sweat and blood. She doubled over slightly, hands clutching at her stomach. "They're coming." She wept.

"Shit." Mrs. Whittemore swore, panic tainting her voice. "Okay. Okay." She grabbed hold of the door handle and tried to yank it open. It wouldn't budge and she reached inside the car to unlock it, before trying again. It took a few attempts but eventually, and with a loud screech of metal against metal, the door came free. "Can you get your seat belt off?"

The young woman shook her head, forcing Mrs. Whittemore to reach around her and uncouple it, before she was able to heave the heavily pregnant stranger out of the car. "Now, your name?" Mrs. Whittemore panted.

"Josephine." The young woman replied breathlessly, panting as her body doubled over with what was obviously another contraction.

"Okay, Josephine. Let's just sit you down here, until the ambulance arrives, shall we?" Mrs. Whittemore lowered her down to the damp ground, then dropped down beside her. "Is Peter your boyfriend?" she asked between pants.

Josephine nodded, before toppling back against the grass and crying out.

Derek looked from Josephine to Lydia, then over to Peter. He had no idea Peter had a pregnant girlfriend? His stomach dropped as a horrifying realisation occurred to him, and he swallowed.

"It's alright Josephine, just breathe." Mrs. Whittemore ordered, brushing at the girl's hair, "Ambulance will be here soon."

Josephine began to cry, her hands clutching at her stomach. "I want Peter." She wept, "I want him here."

Derek looked over at his uncle, his heart twisting with sympathy. He couldn't imagine how hard it was for the man to stand over there, reliving his past.

"Would you like me to call him? Do you have his number?"

"Ph-phone. In the car."

"Okay, sweetheart, just…" Mrs. Whittemore scrambled back to her feet and hurried over to the car, rifling through the debris."

Another cry ripped through the night, louder and filled with more pain. Derek could smell the blood before they began to see it. "Shit."

Mrs. Whittemore came hurrying back, dropping to her knees beside the distraught young woman. "Oh shit. Josephine? Josephine?" she pleaded.

"Coming." Josephine said weakly, "Safe my….Ahhhh!" she screamed, her legs parting.

Mrs. Whittemore shuffled around to crouch between the young woman's legs, lifting her skirt and going pale when she saw the blood coating the inside of Josephine's thighs.

"Shit, she's haemorrhaging." Lydia said, chest heaving with panic.

"Peter." Derek said, looking over to his uncle. "Peter!"

Peter shook his head, "I… No."

"Peter," Lydia whispered, looking over to him, her voice tight with tears and sympathy. "This is your chance to say goodbye."

There was a long moment, where Peter stared at them, then looked away, shaking his head. Lydia sighed, turning back to watch Mrs. Whittemore. Josephine moaned weakly, sweat rolling off her forehead, while tears slipped from her eyes.

"Oh my god, I can see the head." Mrs. Whittemore panted. "Shit. Okay, Josephine, just… Shit, uh, push."

"Peter." She whimpered, chest heaving and body shaking as she sobbed.

"I'm here." Peter choked out, appearing from behind Derek. He dropped down beside her head, his hand reaching for her hair, only to pass right through. "I'm here, Jo. Right here." He cried. "You're doing so well."

Josephine's eyes opened, seeming to lock with his. "Peter?" she whispered again.

"Can she see him?" Derek asked Lydia quietly.

"I… I don't know. It's possible." Lydia shrugged, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"I love you." Josephine whispered, reaching up to brush her fingers over Peter's face, only to find nothing but air.

Peter made a choking noise and dropped his head, "I love you too." He whimpered. "I'll always love you."

Derek swallowed the thick lump in his throat, breathing heavily. Was it any wonder Peter had closed himself off from the world when he'd lost his girlfriend and obviously their children too? Hell, when he'd lost Paige, life hadn't felt like living anymore, he couldn't even begin to understand what his uncle was going through.

"Come on Josephine, come on. Almost there." Mrs. Whittemore said, panting. "Just one more push should do it."

"Come on Jo." Peter whispered, just one last push. He lent forward, till his forehead was almost touching hers, if she weren't merely a vision of the past. A past Peter had carried around with him all his life.

Josephine smiled weakly, gave a little nod and then pushed.

There was an eerie silence, before a loud piecing cry ripped through the night. They all turned to see Mrs. Whittemore holding a blood covered baby, as it cried for its mother. Derek smiled sadly, before looking back to Peter. His uncle, leaning down in an attempt to kiss Josephine's lips. He settled for kissing air and whispering, "I love you."

Derek inhaled slowly, crying along with Peter and his child, his chest tightening as he looked at the newborn. He seemed healthy, but… - But something had to have happened because Derek hadn't grown up with cousins, which meant… It tore Derek up inside.

"It's a bo…Oh, Oh god, Josephine?" Mrs. Whittemore cried, scrambling over to the young woman's side, and pressing two fingers against her throat. "Oh god. I'm so sorry."

"The other baby?" Derek frowned, straining to listen, only to hear nothing. He exhaled a regretful sigh and stepped over to his uncle, reaching for his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Peter looked from Josephine to her still swollen stomach, to Mrs. Whittemore, cradling his son.

Beneath them the ground shook, and a second later the golden mist flooded into the area, swirling around them before enveloping Josephine's body as it had done with Laura's. Peter pulled back, eyes wide and angry, as it pulsated over his dead girlfriend, before swimming away into the middle of the road, where it merged with a tree root.

Derek frowned, stepping a little closer, watching it closely. It seemed to ripple in the direction of woods, beckoning them to follow.

"It's alright little one." Mrs. Whittemore said, "I have you."

Derek, Lydia and Peter all turned back to the woman, watching as she got to her feet.

"I'll take care of you." She pressed her lips to the baby's forehead. Looking down at the young dead woman, Mrs. Whittemore exhaled a long breath, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'll look after him. He'll have everything he's ever wanted. I promise." With that, she began to back away from the body and hurried back to her car.

Peter was on his feet, chasing after her. He reached out to grab her but it was pointless. It was the past. A brief snapshot in time.

"Oh my god." Lydia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Jackson?"

As the car sped away, heading off into the darkness, Peter stared after it, eyes flashing blue and features transformed with fury.

"I can't believe…" Lydia muttered, shaking her head, eyes wide with shock. "Jackson?"

Derek could hear her heart hammering and he lay his hand on her shoulder, comforting her. She looked up at him, blood-shot eyes still filled with tears. "I'm in love with my ex-boyfriend's father?"

Uncertain what to say, Derek shrugged. "I suppose it could be worse." He said quietly, "He could be _your_ father."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at the Alpha, unamused, then marched away from him with a huff, stopping beside Peter. She didn't touch him, just offering the comfort of her presence. "I don't understand how she… could do that?" Lydia whispered. "How did no-one know? Surely…" she looked back to Josephine, "Why didn't her family investigate?"

"Next time I see Chris," Peter said sharply, "I'll be sure to ask him." He stalked back to Josephine's body, only to find it gone.

"Chris?" Derek frowned, "Chris… _Argent_?"

Peter turned his head, fixing his nephew with a hard look. "Yes. Josephine was his younger sister." He informed him harshly.

Derek's eyes widened, "I… - An Argent?"

Peter bristled, marching towards Derek. "I'm not the only one, am I?" he seethed, "Difference is, Jo…" his voice stuttered briefly. He inhaled deeply, before continuing, "Jo never tried to kill my family. – She loved Talia. She loved _you_!"

"Me?" Derek gasped, "But I…." he shook his head, "I don't remember."

Peter scoffed, shaking his head. "No reason you should, you only met her once when you were eight." His shoulders slumped, and he tore his gaze away from Derek to stare at the now empty patch of earth. "She thought you were adorable."

"Everyone knew?"

Peter sighed, "There was no reason to hide. Not then." He shook his head, dragging his trembling hand through his hair. "It was only after she became pregnant that things changed. Gerald Argent was furious. He might live by the code, but the idea of a werewolf grandchild." He huffed in cold amusement. "He sent her way to stay with 'family', I got two letters from her. One telling me she was pregnant, and how she was fighting to keep it, despite them trying to force her into having an abortion. The other telling me she was coming home. She was on her way back when…." He waved at the now empty road.

"All I was told," Peter continued, "was that she'd died in a car accident, the baby too."

"Did you know it was twins?" Lydia asked softly.

Meeting her teary eyes, Peter shook his head, "I had no idea. I… I guess she was going to surprise me." He smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry." Lydia said again, and Peter nodded, holding out his hand to her, then reeling her in, pressing his lips to her forehead as he hugged her tight.

He looked up at Derek from over Lydia's head. "We should get going. The sooner we find what we came here for, the sooner we can get back and I can start getting some fucking answers."

"You're going to tell Jackson?" Lydia frowned looking up at him.

"Of course."

"He won't believe you." She informed him flatly.

"Maybe not." Peter sighed, "But he'll believe a DNA test."

Derek reached over and gave his uncle's shoulder a squeeze, then started in the direction he'd seen the golden mist disappear.

After only a few steps towards town, they found the darkness slipping away, replaced by the white room. In its center stood a huge tree, the same tree Derek had seen when he'd first arrived. As they moved closer, Derek could see ancient runes of differing sizes carved into its bark, the triskelion being one of the larger ones.

Keeping their distance, they moved around the tree. Beneath all the large symbols stretched out a thick root, stretching off into the distance. Stopping once more in front of the triskelion, he turned his head and followed the path of the root, inhaling when he saw the familiar sight of the high school off into the distance.

He looked questioningly over to Lydia on his left, "Museum." She whispered.

"The hospital." Peter announced from behind Derek.

Lydia moved cautiously around the tree, vanishing from sight only briefly before stumbling back quickly. From behind the tree emerged a shadowy figure. Peter hurried over, grabbing Lydia's arm and pulling her protectively behind him. Derek moved closer to his uncle's side, teeth and claws bared in readiness of a fight. They watched it as it moved around the tree before stopping a few feet away from Derek. It looked to be facing the tree, and when Derek narrowed his eyes, honing his sight, he noticed it was a person donned in a blood red robe.

Slowly it dropped to its knees, and began to chant. That same foreign language they'd heard Deaton and the others speak. Derek and Peter exchanged looks, then Derek took a cautious step forward.

"Stop!" Ordered a heavily accented female voice, and Derek froze, his whole body seeming to turn to stone, fixing him in place. "You come here to stop me?" she scoffed, slowly rising and turning to face them. Her hood still concealing her face, despite her head being lifted. "Foolish wolf." She spat with venom. "Will your kind never learn?"

* * *

 **I don't usually do this because it can ruin the plot somewhat, but I realise it's a sensitive subject, so I feel I need to give a Trigger Warning for the death of a mother and child during birth.**

 **_ _Spoliers_ _**

 **Yes, that's right, Jackson Whittemore, is really Jackson Hale. Son of Peter. This love triangle just keeps getting messier and messier but that's what happens when people steal babies from dead mothers. At least we know what Isaac's dad had on the Whittemores to keep Jackson quiet, huh? It kind of does make it seem as if Beacon Hills is one of the most corrupt places in the country, right? I mean between the Argents paying off people to cover up the fire, Deaton spying on the Hales and now the Whittemores kidnapping babies and then paying off people to cover it up. (See: Couch Lehay and possibly, Erica's dad) It's almost like the Sheriff is the most honest man in the town. lol**


	20. Female Trouble

**Female Trouble**

Taking a step closer to Derek, the robed woman raised a hand, the flesh marked with scars. "Alpha." she whispered, "I thank you." There was laughter in her voice at the look of confusion. "You have served to free me," Then she turned to Peter, "As have you. - You each have helped weaken the bonds that bind me to this place." Peter, Derek and Lydia, shared perplexed looks before her voice pulled their attention back. "Your hands speak for you." The woman said, gesturing with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

Raising them Peter stared, his natural blue eyes blazing with a supernatural glow. Derek caught the familiar scents of Laura and Kate's blood coating Peter's fingers, and his heart clenched painfully. Peter himself paled, inhaling a shaky breath and shook his head, staring at his hand with wide furious eyes. "I…" he met Derek's gaze, a mix of guilt and fear in their depths.

Derek flexed his fingers, noticing the tacky-ness and instantly dropped his gaze, to find his own palms were covered. He choked on the scent coming off them. "Paige?" he whispered, looking from his hand to Peter.

The cloaked woman gave a frustrated sigh and turned away from them. "What you have done in only a few years, my followers have spent centuries failing to do." She shook her head. "I have waited so long to be freed, so many centuries trapped by this…" she turned, hissing at the large tree, "cut off from those who tremble at my every word, but it wouldn't hold me completely," she stepped closer to it, scoffing. "I found a way, and soon I will be free. – Thanks to you?"

"Free? - Do either of them look like Michael Scofield to you?" Lydia mocked, her tone cool and dismissive.

The woman stopped, spinning on her heels. "Did I command you to speak?" she hissed in a snake like manner, stalking back towards Lydia. "You think to mock me?"

"Well, you do make it so easy." Lydia huffed.

"You should know your place, Pagan." The cloaked woman warned, her hand snapping out to wrap around Lydia's throat. "You have no power over me any longer." Struggling against the woman's hold, Lydia clawed her nails across her wrist, but she wasn't released, instead the strange woman simply chuckled, shaking her covered head.

"You thought to bind me here, didn't you? You thought your magic would hold me, but you were a fool. My power could not be restrained forever, and when I am free, my followers and I will lay waste to this world."

"Who are you?" Derek asked, voice surprising calm, despite the hammering of his heart.

The woman turned, her hand still firmly wrapped around Lydia's throat. "You come to a battlefield with no knowledge of your enemy?" she asked, laughing mockingly. She glanced back to Lydia, before flinging her away as if she was little more than a twig.

The teenage banshee sailed through the air to land with a sickening thud behind them and Peter tried to run to her side, only to find himself frozen in place. He shifted, baring his teeth and claws to the mysterious woman, but she ignored him, her focus solely on Derek as she stalked forward.

"Who are you?" Derek repeated, his own features shifting.

She stopped in front of him, her scarred hand lifting to brush at his transformed face. Her cold fingers trailing along his brow ridges, down his nose, and across his cheeks. "You are beautiful." She whispered.

Derek flinched away from her touch, a strong sense of déjà vu. She stared at him for a few seconds. "You come her to fight me, with no understanding of who I am, or your part in this?"

"Well we do keep asking." Peter grunted through his teeth, "Or perhaps you've forgotten your name, being locked away here for so long." He smirked coldly, his rough, gravel-like voice thick with sarcasm and distrain.

She looked over at him, shoving her hood back and Derek inhaled deeply, his heart leaping into his throat as he stared at the woman's face. "You're a Kanima?" he gasped.

She stalked towards Peter, her eyes burning with fury, rimmed with gold, ignoring Derek as she announced. "I am Stheno. Daughter of Typhon…"

"And Echidna." Derek whispered with shock, eyes searching her profile with a sudden flash of understanding. "Sister to Medusa and Euryale."

Stheno turned, fixing Derek with a surprised look. "So you know me after all?" she lifted her chin proudly.

"I…" Derek grunted, "I… I know you killed more men than your sisters combined."

Stheno grinned, her head tilting to the side. "They deserved it, each one of them. They sided with Zeus and his kin against us. – This land," she waved her hand, "The world, it belonged to us. I am daughter of the creators of this world, but it was stolen from us. First by the Titans, then by their treacherous children." She spat, swinging around with a flash of crimson robe, marching back to the tree. "My father and mother created this, and how were their children treated?" glaring furiously to the Nemeton, "Raped, hunted, cursed. – Imprisoned."

Spinning on her heels, she fixed Derek with an accusing gaze. "You wolf; your kin should have been fighting to free me, like the others of your kind, not helping to keep me trapped here."

"And why would I do that, exactly?"

Stheno tilted her head with confusion, moving closer to him once more. "You were cursed by Zeus too. You should want you're revenge."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Whatever power Zeus had once, it's gone now. No one worships the old gods anymore."

Stheno stepped closer, "Is that so?" she hummed thoughtfully, her lip curling, and Derek had the sudden feeling that he'd said the wrong thing. "There are some that follow the old ways, though." She looked over to where Lydia lay, unconscious. "Like the Darach that is trying to free me."

"Just enough to keep you trapped here." Peter said before Derek could answer.

Turning her head slowly, she fixed Peter with a murderous look, "I am growing tired of you."

Peter shrugged, "Well, don't worry, we won't be here much longer. Soon will be pulled back to our world, and then we'll kill the Darach, and you'll never be released."

She slithered over to him, her hips swaying. "If she fails, others will follow."

"You think so?" Peter scoffed, "You said it yourself; you've been trapped in that tree for centuries. Your own people brought you halfway around the world and trapped you in the veil."

Derek looked over his shoulder at his uncle, brows knitted together in confusion. How did Peter know that? Had he been keeping things from Derek too? Of course he had, Peter was almost as bad as Deaton when it came to keeping information to himself, until it served his purpose.

The woman's hand snapped forward, gripping Peter's throat and raising him off his feet. "You think to mock me? You fail to understand who holds the power here."

The sound of grinding bone had Derek panicking. "I'm guessing, it would be them." Derek grunted, nodding off into the distance as three shadowy figures appeared. He stared, straining to get a better look, but all he could see was shadows and golden mist. He turned his head, seeking Stheno out, and finding two more behind him. Each standing over a shimmering golden root. They were all fading to faring degrees. One almost completely gone. Something twisted in Derek's stomach, though he couldn't quite understand why, and a deep sense of foreboding gathered around him.

Stheno tossed Peter aside, turning to glower at the shadows. "You cannot hold me forever." She seethed, strolling casually over to Derek's side and pointing to them, "See how they have almost faded? Soon their power will have been diminished and they will no longer be able to hold me." She took a step closer to them, her voice growling louder. "The last of your kin will die, and I will be free." She yelled furiously at the shadows, "And I will destroy everything you thought to save. You will pay for your betrayal!" she screamed at them.

While she ranted frantically at them, Derek turned to find Peter had crawled to Lydia's side, lifting her to sit. She blinked, shaking her head before looking over to Derek and Stheno.

Stheno turned, moving quickly into Derek's personal space, staring up at him, her features contorted with fury, her fingers raising to grip once more at Derek's throat. "I thank you, wolf, for delivering yourself to me." Her fingers tightened and her sharp nails pierced the alpha's flesh. "I will have the satisfaction of weakening one of my bonds myself." Her eyes flickered over to the darkness where one of the shadows seemed to be struggling to move. "Leaving one less for the Darach to dispose of, and I, one step closer to freedom." tightening her grip. "And there will be no one left to stop her. She will finish the task I set her." Stheno grinned wickedly. "It is a shame, you would have made a beautiful pet." Her head tilted, regarding him with mock regret, eyes rimmed with gold.

"My pack will stop you." He snarled breathlessly, eyes flashing red at her.

The Gorgon scoffed, "Your pack?" she laughed, "Your pack is worthless. Two broken children and a failed alpha," she shot Peter a mocking grin, "They don't even have their _human_. Once you are gone, they will have no one to lead them." Her nose wrinkled with amused disgust. "Not that you were much of an Alpha to begin with. How could you think to lead when you do not even understand your enemies, nor the power that courses through your veins? You are weak, and thus, were never a match for me."

And with that, pain reverberated through Derek, pulsating out from her touch to course through his body, down his spine. Tearing him apart from the inside. Tearing him in two.

"You are weak." She repeated, sneering, "It is perfectly beautiful that your line should be the first to break." She grinned wickedly as his knees gave way and he crumpled to the earth, her hand never leaving his face.

Derek let out an agonizing cry. He felt as if his head was being crushed, skull shattering beneath its flesh. His vision blurring from the pain.

The last thing he heard before darkness claimed him was a loud roar and a piercing scream.

_(*-*)_/

The scream echoed painfully around his head, seeming to cut through him like a knife through butter. The feeling of being torn apart didn't fade, even while he felt the sensation of falling. Tumbling backwards through eternity.

When he finally landed, he struggled to breathe while his whole body was trembling. There was a damp hot breeze sweeping over his cheek and nose. With great effort, Derek slowly forced his eyes to open, startling when he found a set of burning red ones staring back at him.

Inhaling sharply, Derek's eyes grew wide and he quickly scrambled backwards until his back hit something solid. In front of him the wolf, its thick black fur and red gaze padded towards him. Derek swallowed thickly when the large beast stopped, its nose pressed to his own.

"Mom?" he choked out, tears burning. "I'm…sorry."

The wolf's head didn't move, its gaze locked with Derek's.

"I know." Derek whispered, trying to break eye contact, but found himself unable to move. "I'm sorry." He repeated shakily.

"You have nothing to apologize for." Reassured a voice in his head.

Finally Derek was able to tear his eyes from the wolf and stared past the beast to watch a figure emerge from the shadows. His heart hammered frantically beneath his ribs as she came into view. "Mom?" he gasped, eyes flickering between the wolf and his mother, confused.

Talia strolled closer, her fingers trailing over the back of the wolf the moment it was within reach. "Sweetheart." She whispered, crouching down next to the wolf, eyes locked with Derek's.

"I… I don't understand?" He frowned, voice trembling as he looked between them.

"I know. That's my fault." Talia sighed, shaking his head. "I should have prepared you."

"Prepared me?"

"To be Alpha." Talia clarified, her other hand reaching for Derek, cupping his cheek. "My sweet baby boy." She shook her head, tears in her eyes.

Swallowing thickly, Derek pressed his face into her palm. "I wasn't meant to be alpha."

"Weren't you?" She hummed thoughtfully. "There is such a thing as destiny my baby boy. The gods will have their way." She turned, looking at the wolf for a moment. "We are pawns in a much larger game."

"I... I don't understand. "Derek muttered breathlessly.

"I know." Talia replied, looking back to him. "And I'm sorry for that. If I'd known, I'd have prepared you, but... I was complacent. None of us believed it would ever come to pass. We arrogantly believed they could never erase the bloodlines. There are so many branches to this tree, entwined and merged with others, it seemed impossible." She sighed, shaking her head at her own stupidity, "But I… - No family is ever too far from the Nemeton. It pulls us back no matter how far we try to run."

Lowering her eyes, Talia exhaled another weary breath, "And we should have foreseen them turning us against each other. - After Joey, it should have been obvious." She lifted her watery gaze to meet her son's, "You are not to blame Derek, not for any of it. If anyone should plead for forgiveness it's me. I have set you on your destined path with no preparation for what will lay ahead."

The wolf beside her huffed, knocking its flank into her shoulder, and Talia looked at it. Derek watched as they seemed to silently communicate, his eyes sweeping over his mother's profile. She looked just as she had before her death. Her olive skin, peppered with freckles, smooth and untarnished. Nothing like Peter's had been after the fire. Nothing like what he'd spent a decade imagining. He fell the guilt slowly release the death grip from his heart, allowing it to beat normally again.

Without conscious thought, he reached out, his trembling fingers brushing at his mother's cheek. She felt so real, he could feel the softness of her skin, warm against his fingers. Then he reached for her hair, dragging it between his thumb and forefinger, just as silky as he remembered.

She turned back to him, her hand coming up to capture his. A sad smile on her face. "You have to go now, sweetheart. Cora needs you."

Derek shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I… I don't want to leave you." He choked out.

Talia sighed, cradling his neck and pulling him to her. "I know, but it's not your time. You have important things to do, the world is depending on you." She gently kissed his forehead, then lowered her own to rest against it. "You must stop the Darach," she whispered firmly, "protect the branches of the tree."

"I don't understand." Derek stammered softly, his throat thick with tears.

"Everything you need is in the vault. Trace the lines, protect those that remain."

Derek pulled back, meeting his mother's eyes. "Vault?"

Talia sighed once more, her hand brushing at her son's tear stained cheek. "The tunnels beneath the town. Everything you need is down there. – Tell Cora I love her. I love you _both_." Talia got to her feet, her palm still resting against Derek's skin. "And sweetheart. I'm so incredibly proud of you." She lent down and pressed another kiss to his forehead.

Derek choked out a whimper, the tears falling again as she slowly stepped away from him. Opening his eyes, Derek stared up at her, watching as she moved further and further away. Then a low growl came from the large black wolf, and Derek turned, eyes widening in shock as the beast pounced.

_(*-*)_/

Derek broke free of the water with a gasp, his hand flying to his neck as his heart thundered in his ears. His whole body shook, though whether that was from the ice water or the adrenalin, he couldn't tell. It took a few seconds for the fog of terror to clear. The image of the giant wolf's jaws, the phantom memory of them closing around his throat, haunted him for a few more seconds. Finally the memory faded and the bright lights of Deaton's clinic blinded him.

He startled as hands gripped his arms, pulling him free of the water. He looked around to see Isaac and Peter worriedly staring at him.

"We thought we'd lost you." Peter panted, his hands trembling as they held Derek's left arm.

Setting his wet foot on the cold tiles, Derek shook his head, blinking. "I…" he swayed and both sets of hands held on tighter.

"Are you okay?" Isaac asked fearfully.

Sending the beta a reassuring nod, Derek allowed the pair to guide him over to a chair. Before he was even fully seated, a thick blanket was being draped around him, and he looked up to see Nick. "Thank you." Derek muttered breathlessly, gripping the edges and gently shaking off the other man's hands, before focusing on Peter, who was staring down at him, still dripping wet. "You're still h-here?"

Peter shifted, "Wasn't going to let either of these," he jerked his head, "claim the Alphadom when you croaked."

Derek narrowed his eyes at his uncle, before huffing out an amused laugh. "If I'd _croaked_ , it would have gone to Cora. - Assuming she's still alive." He added gloomily.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked, crouching down in front of his nephew and gripping his covered shoulder, eyes searching his features. "I was sure she was going to kill you."

"She?" Jackson frowned, looking between them.

"She tried." Derek whispered, "But…." Shaking his head. Now that he'd regained his equalibrium, he let his gaze travel around the room.

Jackson and Isaac stood shoulder to shoulder just behind Peter. Derek looked from his uncle to Jackson, eyes flickering between them as he took in the similarities in their appearance. How he hadn't noticed them before he couldn't understand, they seemed so obvious now. His thoughts trembled over one another as he replayed what they'd seen. Jackson was his cousin, his blood. – But he was also an Argent. Kate's nephew. Part wolf, part hunter, and he had no idea. _If it weren't so tragic, it would be funny._ Derek thought.

They would have to talk about it. He couldn't imagine how it was going to go, with the tension and anger already palpable between the pair, thanks to Peter's relationship with Lydia.

"Lydia?

Peter inhaled sharply. "I don't know."

"Go." Derek ordered.

Peter stared at him with surprise, even as he got to his feet. "Are you…?"

Derek gave a nod, which was all the permission Peter seemed to need, because without even grabbing his shoes, he sprinted out of the door, almost colliding with the Sheriff. Derek looked at the older man and his heart skipped, guilt tightening in his gut. He was so focused on John Stilinski, he ignored Jackson's indignant demands to know where Peter was running off to, or what it had to do with Lydia.

"Sheriff?"

John moved hurriedly into the room, twisting as Jackson raced out past him.

"Jackson!" Derek yelled, "Get back here!" he heard the teenager slide to a halt at the front door, then reluctantly backtrack to the doorway.

"She's my…"

"Not anymore."

He fixed Derek with a hard angry glare, and the Alpha sighed, saying nothing more, instead turning back to the Sheriff. The last thing they needed was Peter and Jackson getting into a fight.

"What did you find out?" John asked with an eerie sense of calm. "Do you know where he is?"

Derek focused on his boyfriend's father, his stomach twisting in knots when he opened his mouth to reply. "She doesn't have him."

"What?" The Sheriff frowned. "Then whe…?"

"Manticore." The Alpha announced flatly.

John froze, his eyes staring into the younger man's. He turned away and a loud bang echoed around the room as John kicked furiously at the metal cabinet. Out of the corner of his eyes, Derek saw Isaac flinch and take a step back, the air suddenly growing thick with fear and anxiety.

"Sheriff!" Derek growled, calling the man's attention.

Turning sharply, the older man looked ready to yell, but followed Derek's eyes as they flickered over to Isaac. In an instant John stilled, a look of horror and regret filling his face. "Oh god." He scolded himself, shaking his head and holding up his hands. "I'm sorry son."

There was a tense moment where everyone stared at the young beta as he pressed his back against the wall. Then he exhaled a slow breath. "I-It's alright, Sheriff."

With the young man's forgiveness, John turned his attention back to Derek. "Are you sure?" he asked, almost pleading for Derek to change his answer.

"I saw him myself."

"What?" The Sheriff frowned.

"He was in the back of a van surrounded by armed guards. They had… _tattoos_." He said meaningfully.

John dragged his hand through his hair and began to pace the room. "I hoped… - How wrong is it that I'd hoped he'd been taken by some supernatural creature?" the man scoffed bitterly. "At least then, we'd have a chance at getting him back."

Derek shoved himself to his feet, the blanket falling to the floor, and straightened to his full height. "We _will_ get him back. I swear it." He promised fervently.

John looked at him sadly, shaking his head. "There's no way…"

"We'll find a way. I'm not… - I'm not losing him too." Derek announced with conviction. There was another few seconds of silent tension, only broken when the Sheriff inclined his head in agreement. "But first, I need to find my sister, Erica, and Boyd.

"Do you know where they are?" Isaac said breathlessly, the scent of fear seeping away. Twisting his head to meet the young beta's gaze, Derek shook it. "So we're no closer than we were before this." Isaac snapped angrily.

Derek shared the teenager's frustration. They'd been hunting for Erica and Boyd for months. "I swear, we'll find them."

"Before she kills them?" Isaac argued weakly, tears pooling in his eyes.

"So what's the plan?" Jeremy asked and Derek turned, finally acknowledging the other alpha's presence. "My mom mentioned tunnels beneath the town. She said everything we need to know is down there."

_(*-*)_/

As Derek cut the engine, his gaze flickered to the rear view mirror, watching as the sheriff's car pulled up behind them. He'd told the man they could handle this, but it seemed John Stilinski was just as boneheaded and determined to interfere, as his son. Sighing, Derek climbed out of the SUV, followed swiftly by Isaac and Jackson, who hovered on the other side of the car, watching him.

Sandwiched between the SUV and the sheriff's patrol car was Nick's rental, the two visiting werewolves stepping out. Derek had tried to tell them to leave, as politely as he could, but Jeremy had put up too good an argument for having them stay, reminding him he was a new alpha going up against an incredibly powerful emissary, and he only had two teenagers for back-up. Derek had argued he had Peter, except for the fact that Peter wasn't there, was he?

So despite how absolutely uncomfortable it was to have his ex, who he hadn't actually officially broken up with, hanging around, Derek had reluctantly accepted their help. "Show our guests inside." Derek ordered Isaac and Jackson, "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Jeremy gave him a respectful nod and followed after the two teenagers, Nick trailing after his after. The patrol car door slammed closed and the sheriff strolled closer, his eyes fixed on Derek, while his hand rested on his weapon. – More out of habit than threat, Derek thought.

"Sheriff, I told you, we can handle this. You should be looking into the woman Isaac told you about."

"Oh yes, the African-American woman on a motorcycle with a barcode on her neck." John grumbled, "I'm sure she's just hanging out at the local Wendy's."

"Sheriff…"

"I'm the Sheriff here, Hale, it's my responsibility to capture…."

"And I'm the Alpha." Derek interrupted sharply, "This, the supernatural threatening this town, it's _my_ responsibility, just as it was my mother and grandfather, and every alpha going back generations." The Sheriff opened his mouth to argue, only for Derek to continue over him, his tone softening somewhat, "There is also the fact that you're Stiles father and if anything were to happen to you, he'd never forgive me, so go back to the station and I'll drop by when we're done."

John bulked at the order, swallowing thickly at the brief flash of red in the younger man's eyes, but then he blinked and shook it off. "I don't care what you are Hale!" the man stated firmly, his back straightening, "I'm coming with you!"

"No!" Derek slammed his own car door, making the vehicle jerk onto its far wheels before settling back on all four. "This is too dangerous and I don't want the news of your death to be the first thing I share with Stiles when I find him."

"I can take care of myself." John seethed indignantly, his hand tapping at his gun, as if that made a point.

Derek scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're human." He said as if he were talking to a child who couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to jump off the roof in a superman costume.

"So is my son!" John argued, "And you've been allowing him to…"

"No, he's not." At the hurt look that passed over the older man's face, Derek inhaled sharply, realizing just how that must have sounded, "I mean…" he cleared his throat, "He's not human." He clarified quickly, taking a step forward and lowering his voice. Not that it would stop anyone from hearing what was about to be said. – But given the choice between breaking Stiles confidence and possibly leading John Stilinski into a dangerous situation, he figured Stiles would forgive him. "He's never been human," he continued, staring at the man, "Not completely anyway. He's…" _Amazing. Incredible. The best thing to happen to me_. "He's a soldier. He has strength and instincts, and skills that surpass even my own, and _I'm_ a werewolf. Stiles has been saving my life, and the lives of others, for over a year. There are times when he's more of an Alpha than _I_ am." He smiled sadly, "And if he were here, I wouldn't hesitate for a second to take him with me, but… you're not him."

John's shoulder's slumped, the fight in him seeming to completely evaporate in an instant, he lifted his hand from his gun and instead slipped both hands into the pocket of his trousers. "Only human." He muttered to himself, lowering his gaze to stare at his work boots. "And not his…." John shook his head and inhaled, raising his gaze, "You should go do what you need to. I'll…." He sighed, turning slowly to head back to the car.

Derek stared at the man, a heavy weight settling in his stomach as he took in the Sheriff's appearance, the shadows beneath his eyes, and the lines making him look older than his years. The stress of the past year and a half, etched into each of them. The way his whole body seemed to crumple in on itself. The familiar bitter scent rolling off the man as he walked away, reminding Derek of his room back in New York, those first few years.

Like a bolt of lightning, Derek suddenly gets it. For months, Stiles had been telling him that his father doesn't see him as his own. That John is distant and cold, and blames him for being different. – Only, that's not it, not at all. It's fear. Fear of not being strong enough to protect Stiles. Fear that Stiles doesn't think of _him_ as his father. Fear of what Stiles had been keeping a secret the past year and a half. - Fear of what will happen when they come for him.

But there's also regret. For not being his father. Not been the man he thinks Stiles deserves. Not being enough.

"He's not…" Derek sighed, dragging his hand through his hair. "Sir? He doesn't help me, _us_ , because he's some kind of super soldier, he helps because it's the right thing to do. He helps because he wants to keep this town safe, and keep his friends and family alive. – Because you raised him to care about others."

John turned his head, hands shaking as he holds the car keys. "That was his mother."

Derek shook his head, "No, it was you. Mrs Stilinski taught him to fight, to be a soldier, but it was you, you taught him to care. You taught him to put others before himself. – Even if it means exposing his secret. – Because you raised him to do the right thing, no matter what."

Memories flooded Derek's mind. That first year of Stiles being there in the middle of every dangerous situation. Sure, Stiles was able to defend himself, but Derek hadn't known that then, had he? But he'd been exceedingly grateful for the annoying teenager's presence. How different might his life have been if Stiles had listened to his mother, instead of following his father's example? How dead would he be? "Whatever his DNA says," Derek added, smiling over at the older man, "whatever you believe, he's _your_ son. - Through and through." With that, Derek turned to head into the house. "So let's go."

Derek doesn't wait for the Sheriff, taking the steps two at a time and bursting into the house to find everyone sat anxiously waiting for him. There's a sudden flood of adrenalin in his body that has his heart racing. When he hears the Sheriff's feet cross the threshold, Derek marches determinedly to the basement, everyone shuffling to follow after him.

While he'd only been in the basement that morning, it feels as if he hadn't been there in years. His eyes travel over to where Stiles little work station is set up and his heart clenches with sadness, he hears the Sheriff's heart do a little jump too and glances over to find him staring.

There's the sound of footsteps above them, then the heavy feet on the stares. Derek turned in surprise to find Peter and Lydia. "What are you doing here?"

"Lydia!" Jackson gasped, hurrying over to where she was leaning heavily on Peter's arm.

"I'm fine, Jackson, just a couple of cuts and bruises."

"You were in a coma." John remarks, disbelievingly.

With a flick of her hand, she dismisses his concern and looks at Derek, "Are you alright? I… I tried…"

Derek smiled, "I'm fine. But you shouldn't be here."

"That's what I said, but…" Peter grumbled beside her.

"This is exactly where I need to be." Lydia argued firmly, shooting Peter a scathing look. "Besides, you're going to need this jerk, and he refused to leave." Derek met her gaze searchingly, "I swear, I'm fine."

There was a moment of silence before Derek exhaled and nodded.

Stepping forward, Derek reached for the giant heavy bookcase that concealed the tunnel entrance, pulling it out to reveal the dark recesses beyond. He'd considered sealing them, the tunnel and the basement, but Stiles had convinced him it would be stupid. They needed a way to escape the house, just in case, and the basement would make an excellent training room/office. Derek had reluctantly conceded, with much grumbling. Now he was glad he'd listened to Stiles. – He was always glad to have listened to Stiles.

Despite allowing the tunnels to remain, Derek had sworn never to step foot in them again. - When Kate had killed his family, she'd seal their escape, allowing everyone to get as far as the intersection before discovering they'd been trapped, which left the stone tainted with the scent of death and ash, haunting him. Reminding him of his greatest sin. He heard Peter's sharp intake of breath, and the uptick of his heart, and knew that his uncle felt the same way.

"You okay?" Nick asked from behind him, the man's hand gentle on his back for a brief few seconds, before it was snatched away, as if burnt.

Giving a brief sharp nod, Derek forced his feet to move, stepping reluctantly over the threshold and into the darkness. A second later a bright beam of light illuminated the area and he turned to regard the Sheriff.

Slowly Derek led the way down the tunnel, Peter at the rear of the line. Derek kept his gaze fixed ahead and tried to breathe in a little as possible. The tunnels were centuries old, here long before Beacon Hills itself.

As a child, Derek remembered stumbling down into them, just the once. He'd gotten lost, and when his dad had finally found him, hours later, shivering and curled in a ball in a dank corner beneath... Derek's heart skipped at the memory as it grew clearer the further he moved into the darkness. The memory of a stone room, ivy hanging from the ceiling and a giant carved Triskelion behind him.

They came to the junction, and Derek looked around the darkened abyss, uncertain which way to turn. If it were an escape, they'd turn left, which would bring them out into the woods. This wasn't an escape however, and Derek couldn't remember which way would lead them to what he now thought may have been the vault.

"Derek?" Isaac said quietly from his side.

When Derek turned to regard him, the teenager was pointing to a marking on the wall. It took his werewolf senses to see the Triskelion painted into the brick, and he smiled to himself. Twisting his head, he looked at the opposite wall and found nothing. "This way." He whispered, turning right, grateful the mountain ash Kate had used a decade ago, had long since been blown away.

_(*-*)_/

They kept a reasonable pace, conscious of the Sheriff and Lydia, which meant it took them almost twenty minutes before they reached what seemed to be a dead-end.

"Well that wa..." Jackson began to grumble, only for Peter's hand to land over the beta's mouth, his eyes flashing blue in warning.

Jackson glared at him as Derek stepped up to the wall, closing his eyes and stretching out his senses to hear beyond the stone. There was movement and quite broken whimpers, angry muffled sounds.

"She knows we're here." Lydia said, seconds before the wall exploded out towards them.

Derek reacted quickly, throwing himself over the Sheriff, stone showering painfully down on his back. He heard Lydia squeal, before she inhaled deeply and screamed. It was as if he were back in the veil, the pain ripping through his head, feeling as if it were about to explode like a scene from Scanners. Making the decision to protect the Sheriff over himself, Derek clamped his hands down hard over the man's ears and suffered the agony of the banshee scream.

As Lydia's scream died, Derek leapt to his feet. Despite his vision being blurred and white, the mix of dust, blood and tears making it near impossible to see, Derek rushed forward, colliding with an enormous body. Thick rough fingers curled around his neck and he felt his feet leave the floor. His heart pounded in his ears as his back hit the wall. He could hear the sound of angry growls and scuffles, and tried to see what was happening, but his view was blocked by the large unfamiliar werewolf, the creature leaning its face closer until its damp breath played over Derek's own.

"Save her." The beast whispered, meeting Derek's eyes. Something in the giant's blue eyes seemed familiar but before Derek could place it, he was flying through the air, landing with a grunt in a large room.

Opening his eyes, he stared up at a familiar vine covered ceiling.

Twisting his body he leapt to his feet, ready to fight the large werewolf again, only to find the creature beyond the rubble, holding a young werewolf, who Derek could only assume was Alicia, while Isaac, Peter and Jeremy held Boyd down as he tried to free her. Derek frowned, then turned his head, only to be met with a cloud of dust.

Staggering backwards, Derek coughed, rubbing furiously at his eyes. He heard Peter and Nick yell his name off to his left, but he couldn't focus, his body felt as if it were on fire, and his legs became weak. He crumpled to the ground and gasped in breath.

"You're a little late for our date, Derek." Snarled a female voice, and he blinked back the tears in his eyes to focus on her face.

"Je-nnifer?" He frowned, confused.

"But you know what they say, better late than never." She reached for his throat, squeezing tightly and forcing him to his feet. Her other hand outstretched towards the enterence, using what power she had to hold his pack at bay. Her golden eyes blazing with anger, "I should have known I couldn't trust you." She spat before turning back to Derek. "At least now I can drop the pretence."

"Pretence?"

"To get you here," Jennifer informed flatly. "I have you and your sister, I can break the first seal in a single night."

Derek stared at her, his body limp from the wolf's bane, and his mind growing foggy. Jennifer scoffed, shaking her head. "Don't tell me you haven't figured it out? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," she dragged him over to a large round plinth, hoisting him up on the cold stone as if he weighed nothing. "Your emissary is a disgrace." She looked to her left, forcing Derek's head to follow her gaze, where he saw the crumpled body of Deaton, blood pooling around him. Derek's eyes widened in surprise.

"The fool thought to make a deal with me, thought that if he brought me two of the seals, I'd allow him to share in my glory." She scoffed with disgust. "He didn't even know he was a seal himself." She laughed. "You should be grateful I punished the treacherous bastard."

"L-look who's talking?" Derek wheezed, fighting against her hold, so as to look around, but her grip only tightened as she forced him to meet her eyes.

Jennifer stared at him, brow raised. "Meaning?"

"You killed your pack." Derek reminded her with disgust.

"My pack?" She scoffed, "I have no pack. I was simply doing what others would not." At Derek's obvious confusion the woman continued. "They turned a blind eye while the Alpha stalked and turned innocent young girls, but not before he used them for his own sick desires." Her nose wrinkled and tears filled her eyes. "Everyone stood by and let it happen, let Ennis do as he please, even my own mother. – But not me, I wouldn't allow it to continue. So I killed them. I killed them all. Every member of that pack, who stood by and allowed him to take this innocent girl." She waved to the threshold, where the giant wolf held Alicia. "Then I came seeking sactuary, only I was too late. That was when I heard her, the goddess herself. I had begun to doubt her, but she revealed herself to me." Jennifer's voice grew wistful and she smiled, "She praised me for my courage and begged my help. I couldn't deny the Goddess, could I? All I have to do was help release her and she'd give me the power to destroy them all."

"So you've been killing innocent people?" The Sheriff called from the threshold, "You're no better than this guy you killed."

Jennifer spun around, eyes blazing gold, "I'm nothing like him. They had to die, to free the goddess and purge the world of evil men."

"You're insane." Jackson muttered.

Jennifer narrowed her eyes and released Derek, letting his body crumple down against the stone plinth as she took a small step towards the threshold, her power still holding them back, "Jackson Whittmore," she hummed, "Or should that be Hale? Not that you're a real Hale, are you? I mean, not the same way Derek is? - But you are an Argent, so you're on my list."

"What?" Jackson frowned, scoffing disbelievingly at her announcement.

"You so nearly escaped, but luckily the Goddess knows everything, and once I'm finished with these," She gesture to where Derek was perched up against the stone plinth, then over to where an unconscious Cora was stretched against the wall, flanked by a pale and half-starved Erica, and two terrified McCalls. "I'm coming for you."

Peter stepped instinctively in front of Jackson, his eyes blazing blue. "You'll have to come through me." He threatened and Jennifer laughed.

"Now you're going to play the protective caring father? Where was all that parental devotion when you were stealing his girlfriend?" Peter's shoulders curled forward defensively and he let out a furious growl, ignoring her question and Jennifer cackled, shaking her head. "You think you can stop me? You're not even an Alpha anymore, and will never be again. I'll take that boy and I will bleed him dry," her words turning low and husky. "If you're lucky, you'll have enough time before the Goddess rises to bury him beside his mother and brother."

Turning back to Derek, she gasped, staggering back, eyes wide as she stared into blazing red eyes surrounded by deep black fur. A loud growl echoed around the chamber as the wolf bared its teeth before pouncing.

Jennifer's scream echoed off the old stone as Derek caught her off guard, landing on her chest and sinking his teeth into her throat, shaking his head to tear at the flesh and break the bone. Her blood pooling around them, the life fading from her wide horrified eyes.

Stepping back, Derek raised his snout, blood dripping from his fur and looked over at his pack, all of them staring at him with wide shocked eyes. Huffing at them, Derek turned, padding over to where Cora and Erica sat. Melissa startled at his approach and pulled Scott closer to her defensively, but Derek ignored the thick air of fear that suddenly surrounded the pair, stopping in front of the pale blonde, he looked at her with green eyes that were more human than Alpha, and Erica let out a whimper, before jerking her weak frame forward to wrap her arms around the wolf's neck.

"Thank you, Derek. We shouldn't have left. I'm so sorry." She wept into his fur.

Derek pressed his snout into her neck, inhaling her scent and huffed out his forgiveness. After a few seconds he pulled away and Erica reluctantly released him.

He heard movement behind him as the others piled into the room, Isaac carefully moving over to Erica, while the Sheriff hurriedly help Melissa and Scott to their feet, allowing them to shuffle away from the large black wolf, but Derek's sole focus was on his sister. She was still unconscious, features drawn and pale, and Derek poked at her cheek with his nose. He let out a whine then laid his head across her chest.

"M-Mom?" She whispered weakly, her eyes fluttering open slowly. "M-mom-my?" Then with a choking sound, she rolled to her side and vomited. The blackish bile, dotted with mistletoe, landed inches from his paws, and he let out another whine.

Derek needed to change back, so he could hold her, comfort her, but he didn't know how. Hell, he didn't even know how he'd transformed in the first place. He'd just…felt this overwhelming need to kill Jennifer and protect his pack. Had seen the wolf in his head and then, bam, he was stood on all fours, covered in fur and feeling twice as powerful as he had before. – But how did he stop being…

A cough to his right, had his head turning to see the Sheriff carrying over his abandoned clothes. "You might want to put these back on, son."

Looking down at himself, Derek inhaled sharply as he stared at his naked human flesh. Hurriedly he took the clothes from the older man, and stepped into his jeans, not bothering with his shoes or shirt.

Dropping back to his knees beside his sister, he reached out to drag his fingers through her knotted damp hair. "Hey, Gidget?"

Cora's gaze took a few seconds to fully focus on him, and then a tear rolled down her cheek. "Del?" she sniffled, "Del?" It came out as a broken heart wrenching whine and Derek instantly pulled her up and into his arms.

She clung to him weakly, her arms not quite having the strength to hold him tight. "I… Del, I thought you were…dead." Cora wept into his shoulder. "She t-told me you'd…"

"Shhh, it's alright sweetheart, it's alright. I'm here?"

"L-Laura?" Cora asked into his shoulder.

With tears pooling in his eyes, Derek pressed his hand to the back of Cora's head and turned his face to whisper into her ear. "I'm sorry."

He didn't need to clarify, Cora understood and instantly she crumpled in his hold, shaking as she cried for the loss of a sister she'd already thought dead.

After a minute of Cora crying and the others standing awkwardly around them, Derek scooped his sister up and turned to leave.

"Derek?" Peter called after him, "What about?" He gestured to the twins and Boyd, who was looking at Erica tearfully, the tang of guilt and regret rolling off him in waves, while Peter gave Alicia a sharp jerk by the arm.

Derek looked between them all and sighed, "Bring them, I'll deal with them once I have Erica and Cora settled."

"And them?" John asked, jerking to the bodies on the floor.

"Later." Derek replied, marching out of the chamber, his sister curled into his chest.

_(*-*)_/

Derek stared at the large chamber, his heart twisting painfully at the memory it caused to resurface. He could almost hear the pained moans of Paige as he dragged her through the tunnels from the high school, hoping to get her to his mother. Convincing himself that she'd help, that she's save the girl in his arms, yet knowing there was nothing she'd be able to do.

He stood where she'd died, unable to go any further, Derek unable to force the heavy stone door. Swallowing thickly, Derek scrubbed at his eyes and stepped further into the room, turning to take in his surroundings. For the first time he noticed the walls, filled with books and scrolls. The four other entrances, each with a different symbol carved into the stone. Symbols he'd seen in the veil. Each leading to a certain location around the town, and in the center a large stone plinth.

Stepping closer Derek stared down at it. Carved into it, spreading out from the center, was a tree, each branch graced with a name. "A family tree." He whispered to himself, his mother's words finally making sense.

Derek stepped around it, his fingers tracing over the branches, reading the names.

"It's not over, you know?"

Derek startled, looking over to where Nick stood awkwardly on the ruined threshold, his arms folded and his shoulder pressed to the wall. "I know." He replied tightly.

"They'll keep coming." Nick muttered, his eyes drifting to the plinth. "They'll keep trying to free her?"

Derek's fingers grazed over his family name, staring down at it with pride. "And we'll keep stopping them." He announced confidently.

When he looked up, Nick was staring down at his feet, the toe of his expensive Italian shoe kicking at the rubble. "I guess that means you won't be coming back to New York?"

Derek froze, his back stiffening as he stared at his ex. "Uh, No. – I'm… I've…"

"Found someone else," Nick smiled regretfully. "So I gathered."

Derek lowered his head, pulling his fingers away from the cold stone and sliding both hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I'm sorry. I… - I'm probably should have…called or…"

"Emailed?" Nick smirked, huffing out an unamused laugh. "A text to say it's over may have been good."

Derek's shoulders slumped, "I'm sorry, I… - Honestly," he started, looking up to meet Nick's eyes apologetically. "I thought it was over, we'd been drifting apart for months. Ever since…" He looked at Nick, not needing to mention the death of the other man's father. "And it's not as if I planned it. I didn't plan any of it. Staying here, meeting Stiles. – Falling in love." He choked out the last bit. "It all just… happened."

Nick shrugged nonchalantly, though his words belied his supposed ease, "It's not like we were engaged or anything. I mean, I wasn't planning a big gay werewolf wedding." He scoffed, "And it's not as if I haven't…" he lowered his gaze once more, kicking at the dirt, "I've been…you know, seeing people." He sighed, wearily, turning his body so his back was against the wall. "Ever since my dad," he shrugged, "I've just been..."

Derek frowned, an unexpected wave of hurt and disgust rippling through him. "Spreading your seed." He spits out bitterly, even though he doesn't really have the right to feel righteous, or even jealous.

Nick hears the abhorrence in Derek's tone and turns angrily to him, "I'm the last of my family line, Derek, I need…."

"And if I'd decided to…"

"But you aren't, are you? You've found someone else. – And you're not in any position to pass judgement on me, at least my new… well, they're not jail bait." He shot Derek a judging look.

Derek deflated, knowing Nick was right. "He's not… – It's not…" he sighs, dropping his gaze. "You're right, I'm sorry."

They stand there in a thick uncomfortable silence, Derek staring down at the family tree once more, his mind choosing to focus on that rather than the awkwardness of the conversation. At least until Nick speaks again,

"Besides," the man sighs, "Even if you did want me, I couldn't… You're an Alpha now?"

"So?" Derek frowned, looking over at him, confused.

"So, my father's dead, I've taken his place at Jeremy's right hand."

"I… I thought Clay was…?"

Nick smiled, shaking his head. "You've got a lot to learn, Derek. Clay's the enforcer, the one that does all the dirty jobs. I'm Jeremy's right hand, I'm the one that he turns to for advice, to help fix those things that can't be mended by Clay's claws."

Derek lowered his gaze thoughtfully. "And that's how it works?" he tried to think back to his own pack, but he had no memory of the actual pack business, no one expecting him to be alpha. - _I should have prepared you_.

The sound of a phone buzzing, has Nick digging into his pocket with a sigh, "Jeremy." He answers Derek's unspoken question. Returning it to his pocket, Nick meets Derek's green gaze. "If you've got questions, Jeremy would happily be willing to help. He's a good Alpha, even if he's a little…strict."

Derek nods, aware of just how strict the man was, from what Clay and Nick had told him. Stepping around the plinth, Derek followed Nick back along the tunnels and up into the house where Jeremy was waiting.

"Are you sure you don't want us to take the girl?" Jeremy offered again, "Logan might be able to help."

Derek shook his head, as hard as it was having Alicia Boyd around, as out of control and angry as she was, Derek didn't think separating her and Boyd again, would help either of them recover. "We'll deal with it, as a pack."

Jeremy stared at him for a long moment, before sighing and giving the fellow alpha a nod of approval. "Well, if you change your mind, or if you want me to send Logan down, just give me a call." Derek smiled gratefully, then followed them to the door, then out to their rental car. As Nick strolled over to the car, Jeremy waited, turning back.

"Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful." Jeremy warned in a low voice. "I don't know what Manticore is, exactly, but… I know it's connected to the Emissaries, and whatever they've got planned."

Derek stared at the alpha, trying not to flinch. "Don't worry. We can handle it."

Despite looking unconvinced, Jeremy gave a sharp nod, holding out his hand for Derek to shake, then turned to leave. "If you need anything, you know where to find us." He said before sliding into the car.

Nick met his eyes over the open car door, then inclined his head in farewell. The car had barely travelled a few feet before his cell began to ring in his pocket.

"Sheriff?" he answered, eyes never leaving the tail lights as they finally vanished behind the trees.

" _Derek, you need to come to the station, it's about Stiles."_

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." Derek replied, hanging up and turning back to the house.

_(*-*)_/

There was a loud rattling in Stiles head and his whole body ached. Two car accidence in the space of a couple of months is a hell of a coincidence. Frankly, when it comes to his life, he feels like he should just be one's an incident, two's a pattern, three…well, three is where the shit hits the fan.

Moaning at the noise in his head, Stiles tries to bring his hand up to rub at his temple, only… Only it won't move. He can't move. _Fuck. Fuck._

Stiles eyes fly open and he finds himself staring up at sterile white plastic, the loud rattling sound coming from all around him. His heart begins to race and he can't breathe, panic weighing down on his chest. He tries to move his head and look down at himself, but something is holding him down. Yanking on his hands again, Stiles realizes there are straps encircling his wrist, and his ankles.

The panic turns to fear and his heart feels as if it's about to burst out of his chest. "Hello!" he yells, but gets no answer. "Hello, I'm… Hello, is anyone there! Doc? Melissa? – Dad?" he yells at the top of his lungs, fighting against the restraints.

"Stop moving." Orders a cold deep voice.

"Hello? Where am I?" Stiles calls back, tears beginning to burn behind his eyes. He can feel his body beginning to tremble as a seizure slowly builds in his body. "Hey? Can you hear me? I want to talk to my dad? Hey!" he screams, but then his throat begins to close up around the words and he's dragged back into the darkness.

* * *

 **A/N: And that's that. – Well, at least for now. I'll be back with a sequel (possibly a third part after that), don't worry. – And this time, it will get written, I swear. I wouldn't leave you all hanging like this. I wouldn't leave Stiles and Derek separated. (Assuming the EU doesn't screw us all over, that is. If they do, I'll find a way to get the story out there.)**

 **Anyway, I can't wait to hear what you all think of this?**


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